Ronan. I died long before you died. I died on the day you were diagnosed with cancer. I’ll never forgot the way the news was presented to me. Like, “Oh, hello I am an Oncologist. Your son has stage IV Neuroblastoma. Have a wonderful day.” I was stunned, in shock, and the world was literally spinning around me. I was still trying to figure out what the fuck an Oncologist was. I fell to the floor. I died right then and there. But I got back up from my death. I got back up and I fought. We were thrown into the world of childhood cancer and did not stand a chance. Oh, how I thought we did. Because of course you were special and you were mine and we loved each other so much that the God’s from above were going to work in our favor and save you. They did not and you died. And now I will say over and over again, fuck those Gods for taking my child. After you died, I died again, right along with you, by your side, as you took your last sweet filled breaths. “Come with me, Ronan. Let’s get the FUCK out of this place. Take me with you. Please. I don’t want to stay here alone. I am dead, too.” Dead. Dead. Dead. Not once, but twice. So far in my life, I have died not once, but twice.
You die when your child dies. It’s a fact. You die, over and over again. Yet somehow, you just keep being reborn. I often have days where I’ll look in the mirror and say to myself, who are you today? Because I don’t recognize this face. It’s a new face today, but always the same eyes. Those big, sad, green eyes that are filled with so much pain, darkness, and fire it is as if I am looking into the depths of hell itself. Do you know how I go out into the world now Ronan? How I know what kind of day it is going to be? My days are determined by my lipgloss and I’m not even freaking kidding you. What the fuck, kind of way is that to base my days off of? I don’t know, but it is the only thing that seems to work for me. No lipgloss= a really bad day. A clear or light lipgloss= a calm or peaceful day. A bright or red lipgloss= a very, extra spicy day. A red lipstick day! Holy hell. Hold on to your pants, because someone is pissed. I never did this in my life, before I died. I only knew one feeling during that time and it was pure and utter bliss. Lipgloss living wasn’t even on my radar due to the emotions I was feeling. I just wore it because it made me feel pretty and for no other reason then it was girly and fun. Now I wear it to not feel pretty, because I never feel pretty anymore. I feel ugly all the time. I now wear lipgloss like it is part of my survival to stay on this earth. Lipgloss is my imaginary friend that helps me get through the day, the way I need to get through it. Didn’t think I was crazy before? You surely must think I am crazy now. I have imaginary lipgloss friends. It’s o.k. You know I am o.k. with the crazy that exists inside of me. It’s always been there. Now it’s just a little more tangible.
Today had no choice but to be a better day, then yesterday. But last night. That was hell. I think I tossed and turned until almost 5 a.m. I think I beat up some pillows and sent some raving mad lunatic emails to only the one close enough to us, to receive them. Emails that said things like, “What was I thinking, coming here without my Ambien?!! I need it so I can take 5,6, or 7 of them. Or I actually just need my son back, so I can sleep peacefully, again. Can you bring him back for me? I know you can’t, but just thought I would ask. G’nite lovie.” I finally fell asleep after writing a bit. Crying a bit. Thinking a bit. And missing you, a lot. I woke up today, tired but filled with a nervous energy that I couldn’t shake. Adrenaline running through my body like wildfire. Must go, go, today. Do, do, do. I went to visit someone who I have not seen in a long time, but someone who had a hand in shaping me during those very tumultuous teen-aged years. Someone that watched me at my worst and my best. Someone that watched me as a crazy dramatic teenager, grow into a young woman, and now this; a broken-hearted adult. I walked into to see her, like a puppy dog with its tail tucked in between its legs. That’s how I felt anyway. She looked like she was seeing a ghost. We stood and hugged for a few seconds. I didn’t feel like letting go. “Hi,” I said with my eyes falling to the floor. “Oh, Maya. I think about you all the time. But look at you. You’re doing it. You don’t have a choice. I don’t know what to say. You are such a good person. You didn’t deserve this.” Enter my hysteria here, that I tried to keep under control. “I don’t know what happened or how this happened or why this happened. I did everything right. I did everything I thought I was supposed to do in this life, to make sure I had a good life. And this happens to my baby. How??? Why???” No answers were given of course. Just words of sympathy. Maybe pity?? I hope not pity. I never want pity from another person. I stayed for a few minutes longer as it was a short visit, as it only needed to be. She told me she felt honored that I came by to see her. I wanted to say, “Honored? Not honored. It’s just me. I’m just the same. I would always come by to see you, when I was visiting from out of town. I do not want you to see me, so differently, that you are honored that I would pop by. Please, don’t think of me like that. As the broken-hearted woman you see in front of you. Please think of me as just being the same person I was before all of this happened.The girl you used to know, who didn’t know what real pain, felt like. Can’t I go back to being that girl? Please? I cannot. That life is over. That life, will never exist again. Only a new life exists now and I’m not sure what that looks like. It looks different to me, everyday.
Tomorrow is almost here. I have a favor to ask of all of you lovely little blog readers. You all know my Dr. JoRo and how I fully embrace the fact that she has been one of the people who has saved my life through out all of this. Before her, I had no hope at all. She is one of the only people in my life, who has given me the gift of hope back. Tomorrow, her baby girl, Cheyanne, would have been 18 if she had not died during birth. It is because of her death, that I have my Dr. Jo and I so hate that. I would give anything for it to not be this way, and to not have ever known Dr. Jo, so she could just have her daughter. But because of the cruel fates of the world, it is not this way. Dr. Jo has taken tomorrow and turned it into to International Kindness Day. She has been doing this for a very long time now. So long now, that over 1 million acts of kindness have been done around the world. Can you please take tomorrow, and do something extra nice for someone? Even if it is just smiling at a stranger or holding a door open for someone. It doesn’t have to be anything big, but even the smallest acts of kindness, can change the world. Thank you, lovies. You are the best blogosphere friends a girl could ask for. I love you all.
G’nite Ronan. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll. I love you to the moon and back.