We Are Gathered Here Today to Get Through This Thing Called Life

Ronan. Five years without you in my world, and I don’t think there will ever come a time when I am not in disbelief. For the most part, the shock has worn off, but it still lingers when I least expect it. We left town for the anniversary of the day you died and for your birthday. Once again, I survived, but I still wonder how.

Macy came and joined us for a few days. She is still one of my greatest gifts from you, the one person who can get me to laugh on my hardest days or just sit quietly with me while I cry. I felt numb on the day you died, and the day seemed to drag on forever. The night ended with us watching a Star Wars movie on television because your little sister Poppy is madly obsessed. Can you believe that? All she wants to do is talk about Star Wars. All she wants to do is watch Star Wars. All she wants to do is read your old Star Wars Encyclopedia. She has all of the characters memorized. She knows their names, whether they are good or bad, and whom you loved most. She just turned three, and I am left here in awe. I wonder if you are telling her things while she sleeps. She has such a wisdom about her that leaves me speechless sometimes.

The night that you died, we were all in the living room. Poppy pulled a stool into the room and placed it right in front of us so we could all see her. She climbed up on it and belted out, “We are gathered here today to get through this thing called life.” Yes, I have been listening to Prince nonstop since he died. I am heartbroken about that. Yes, she was quoting “1999.” Macy’s jaw dropped to the floor. Mine did, too. The timing of her little production was impeccable. It’s like she knows so much more than we all do. She already knows that every day I am just trying to get through this thing called life, but especially on the day you died.

I know you talk to her. I know she knows you because the things she says about you, day after day after day, are not things I tell her. They are things that can only come from you, and I am so thankful for that. She loves you so much, and I know you are keeping her safe for me. I know you hear the worry in my head, day after day after day. Her stomach hurts. She has cancer. I tell your Sparkly that I need him to schedule her an ultrasound to rule out the mass my fucked-up head tells me is inside her stomach. She threw a tantrum last night, which is really out of character for her, and was crying so hard she said her head hurt. In my mind, it wasn’t a headache from the tantrum. She obviously has brain cancer. I didn’t sleep because I was convinced she was going to stop breathing. This is the kind of shit that goes on in my head twenty-four hours a day. I honestly don’t know how I am not in a mental ward. I spend my days talking myself out of taking her to the ER for everything. I spend my days talking to you and begging you to calm me down. For the most part, it works, but it leaves me completely exhausted to the point that I can’t even sleep when I crawl into bed at night.

Five years without you can go and get fucked. So can that wonderful saying, “Time heals all wounds.” Complete and total bullshit, and it should never be associated with someone who has lost a child.

I didn’t really cry on the anniversary of your death. I told you, I just felt numb most of the day. It was like I was having an out-of-body experience, watching myself from above as I survived. Your birthday was another story. We had planned to spend the day at the Santa Barbara Zoo. I was getting your sister ready, and she was running around saying, “It’s Ronan’s birthday and I’m going to the zoo! Happy birthday to Roooonnnaaaannn!” I showered her, combed her hair, and chased her down the hallway to get her dressed. She suddenly turned to me, her eyes wild and full of excitement. “When is Ronan going to be here?” I felt the blood drain from my face. I almost collapsed. I didn’t know how to answer her. She repeated herself as I covered my face with my hands, trying to hide my tears. That didn’t work at all, because the next thing she said was, “Why are you crying?”

Quinn came into the room next. “Quinny. Mama is sad. Why is she crying?” I looked up at Quinn. Yes, I looked up at him, because your brother is suddenly a giant, and my five-foot-seven ass is now being towered over by a twelve-year-old. Quinn didn’t say a word. He just wrapped his arms around me. Poppy ran off yelling about your birthday and what animals she was going to see at the zoo. I told your brother I loved him and pulled my shit together so we could head off to the zoo without you.

We had a really nice family day, all things considered. The zoo was tiny but beautiful, and Poppy was in heaven. Your brothers were great and didn’t complain once, like they tend to do when I force them to go to the zoo in Phoenix. Afterward, we grabbed a bite to eat. I didn’t have much of an appetite but did my best to act like I enjoyed my food.

An older couple, who looked to be in their late seventies, sat down next to us. The man started chatting with me and wanted to know how many kids I had. I told him four. He told me he had four as well. His wife didn’t say much, and her hands were shaking terribly the entire time. When dinner was finished, I stayed behind to pay the bill. I quietly told our waitress that I wanted to pay for the couple’s dinner too. She smiled and winked at me. The old man continued to ask me questions, and just when I thought I was going to make it through dinner without crying, I told him a tiny bit about you and how it was your birthday. He looked down at the ground and said he couldn’t imagine. I got up, gave him my best tear-filled smile, and told him to have a wonderful rest of the night. I left a few of your little Ronan cards with our bill.

It felt nice to be able to do something for someone else, but the shitty thing is I would have done something like that anyway, even if you hadn’t died. I have not learned any lessons about how to be a nicer person since you died. I’ve always been a nice person. You getting cancer and dying still makes zero sense to me. I will never be at peace with this. There will never be a day when I don’t yearn for you. There will never be a good enough reason for any of this. Five years later, I still stand by those words.

I have so much more to tell you, but you know all the reasons I cannot. At least not tonight. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. I am forever sorry and heartbroken that you were not here to turn nine with us. We all miss you so very much.