Ronan. Today seemed like a really, really long day. The days without you never fly by anymore. They still seem to be never-ending. Today, seemed extra long for some reason. Looking back I cannot even remember what I did, but as I sit here and think about it, I know. I missed you with every single step I took just like I always do. I had to go to Target, to stock up on some things. I was in the middle of grabbing some stuff and I had one of those moments where I thought to myself, “Today feels like a really hard day for some reason. You should go back home and go to bed for the whole day.” I finished up my Target trip and told myself to power through the day and just get some things done. It was one of those days where I had to have multiple pep talks with myself. I got home and was determined to get some things done that I have been avoiding. One of them being getting rid of the hand me down clothes that I have been saving forever for you, from your brothers. I went through about 7 bins that we have in our garage. I wanted to throw up. What do you mean Ronan won’t get to wear those Nike shoes now or those little John Deere cowboy boots I saved for him? What do you mean I don’t get to pass down your brothers things for you? That wasn’t part of our “plan.” I had a very specific plan in store for our family and never did it consist of you getting cancer and dying. How the fuck did this happen? I don’t care how real this is, I will never get used to it.
I packed up your brothers clothes. I think I called your daddy on my way to the consignment store. I told him what I was doing. Or at least I tried to tell him, but I could barely get the words out without choking my tears back. He told me to wait that he would do it. I was on a mission and just wanted to get it done. I got to my destination. This was me, walking in. “Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.” I dropped off your brothers clothes and got out of there, as fast as I could. I don’t remember what happened the rest of the day. Everything is a blur as this little event happened earlier in the week. I’m still dealing with the if I don’t write things down, soon after they happen, I usually won’t remember them. I sometimes think my cloudy grief brain is never going to get better. I’ve been called flaky now by others. I don’t mean to be. But if I don’t have it written down, or a reminder from someone…. I tend to forget a lot of things. I wasn’t this way before all of this. This is a part of the new me. I don’t like it, but I also don’t have much control over it.
I went to see Marie Tillman speak the other night. She is the widow of Pat Tillman. One of our hero’s in our house. Remember Ro, how we used to call you our mini Pat Tillman? Your daddy and I used to always talk about how we thought you were going to grow up to be just like him. Unbelievably beautiful. Freakishly coordinated. Fearless. With the best heart. I used to tell you bedtime stories about him. We used to do the Pat’s Run every single year and I would happily push you in your jogging stroller while I ran the race. I was excited to go out for the night with Stacy to listen to Marie talk about her life and the book she has written. After she was done speaking, I had the chance to talk with her a little bit. We talked about you, Pat, and this bitch of a thing called grief. She said something to me like, “Everyone expects you to get better over time, and I don’t think that’s true. I told her that I couldn’t agree more. That unfortunately, grief does not seem to have an expiration date. It is such a misconception that time heals all wounds. If anything, I think it makes the pain worse. Deeper in a way. I think I miss you more today, then I ever have. I think I will go on missing you more and more everyday as time passes on by.
I think I have kind of been hiding out a lot. Grief and pregnancy do not go hand in hand together and they are not my friend. I’m still trying to wrap my head around this Poppy sister of yours. She’s starting to kick a lot which is helping to make me realize that she really is growing in my stomach, otherwise I think I might forget. I was with Fernanda today, telling her about how I cannot even go into a clothing store without wanting to scream and run the other way. In my mind, I was thinking this was a more of a what’s wrong with me thing? What is so wrong with me that I cannot even pick out some sweet little clothes for your baby sister? Fernanda put it to me in a way that only she could do. It’s not a what’s wrong with me thing. It’s a because “you know that material items such as clothes in a fancy store, are not what matters. They won’t make you happy. It’s just stuff and you know the worthlessness of that stuff.” I think she hit the nail on the head. All the stuff at the end the day, doesn’t matter at all. So maybe, this is what my road block is all about. Poppy has to be clothed, but Fernanda told me not to worry about that as it will be taken care of. If I had my way, she’d just be a nudey baby forever I guess. I was told also not to worry about her nursery. That she will pick out all the furniture, how it looks, etc…. Of course I trust her with all of this. I am just so thankful that I don’t have to think about any of it as it all seems so overwhelming. I am so thankful for my amazing magical friend who can fix any situation and instantly make me feel better about it. Well, almost any situation. I know she wishes so badly that she could have fixed your situation but I’ll never forget how hard she tried. She tried just as hard as your daddy and I did. I’ll never forget that.
This is all for tonight little man. I’m tired. But restless. You are still waking me up every single night at 3:25 a.m. It’s been this way, since you left. I know it’s you, trying to get to me. I know it’s as hard for you, to be away from me. I’m so sorry about all of this. I wish so badly I could bring you back. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, little man.
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