Ronan. I am trying to figure out a way not to die tomorrow. Tomorrow, your brothers start 3rd grade. I’m pretty sure if you were here, you would have started kindergarten. I said to your daddy last night, “Do you think Ro would have started kindergarten on Wednesday, or would we have waited and made him the older kid in the class because he had a summer birthday?” Your daddy said he thinks we would have started you this year, since you were always so advanced for your age. My stomach sunk. A picture flashed in my mind of sending you off to the same school as Liam and Quinn. Having them to look after you was always a dream come true to me. I don’t get to be a normal mom anymore and cry because of how fast Liam and Quinn are growing up and how I can’t believe my baby is old enough for kindergarten. I am now the mom who gets to sob because you are not here, to go. The tears I cry will never be for normal reasons again, that I would have been so thankful for. What am I going to do??? Rita is already trying to get me to make a plan for tomorrow. “Do you want to go donate blood? Drop food off at a homeless shelter? Work on foundation stuff?” I can’t make a plan. I think it is too hot here, to go jump out of an airplane. Can I get on an airplane tomorrow and leave the state like I want to? To go to a city far, far away where kindergarten does not exist? That’s what I really want to do. Do any of you, have any suggestions? I’m open to them. I’m open to anything that will help me get through the first day of 3rd grade for Liam and Quinn and the first day of kindergarten for my dead child.
I have been thrown back into the world of everything is normal but everything is not, for me. I don’t like it here, but I am doing my best. Your brothers are so excited about the Olympics. So I pretend like I am too, excited about the olympics. Your brothers are so excited about school. So I am excited about school. Not really. I am so sad. But as Simi’s mom told me, “You will learn to become a good actress.” My acting skills are improving, daily. I put on a good show for everyone, daily, so that I am not huddled in a corner, sobbing like a baby. I went to the inferno a couple of days ago. It was only 112 or something like that. I hiked Camelback in the dead heat of the day. It was so hard that I had to stop about 6 times. I almost turned around but then I remembered that I don’t get that choice anymore, of turning and around, stopping and giving up when something is too hard. It is no longer a luxury of mine. I took Ambien for the first time in a month, a couple of nights ago. I fell asleep easily, but woke up due to a dream where I was watching myself laying a couch, rocking myself back and fourth, screaming your name. How do you fall asleep after a dream like that when it is your reality? You don’t. So up I was, pacing the house, trying to calm myself down. Nothing was working so I gave into the devil. I read online about our recent victory on Mars. A 2.5 billion dollar victory. It’s things like this that make me quite sure that I was not meant for this world anymore. The normal world where spending money on something like this, is acceptable because we as Americans are, “curious.” Wait. 2.5 billion dollars on Mars? This makes my blood boil. I really, really hope they find the cure for all types of cancers up there. Because that is the only way, spending money like this, would be acceptable. Or if they find you up there. That would be alright, too. Maybe you are up there, playing with R2D2. Maybe NASA will bring you back. I slammed 2 Ambien after reading about Mars. I flushed them down the toilet, today. I can’t have them around. I’d rather not sleep, then have them. I slept alright without them, last night.
I might have to go now, Ro. I have to work on my plan of action for tomorrow. Can you throw some ideas my way? Some good things I can do for others? That will help me get through the day. I love you, baby boy. I miss you so much. I hope you are safe. xoxo