Not a life full of beauty but one full of beautiful moments instead

Ronan. Today was one of those days where I just could not stop crying. I cried after I dropped your brothers off at school, I cried over every single Taylor Swift song that came on the C.D. I was listening to, I cried when I ran over to the mall looking for a very specific gift which I could not find, I cried when I went over to the baby girl section and tried to look at the clothes. I had a flashback to the days of when I used to ohhhh and awwww over baby girl clothes. Today, I didn’t see anything I liked and I just wanted to rip everything off of the racks. What is wrong with me? Then I remembered. Grief. Hormones. Pregnancy. Stress. Not sleeping well. Missing you. A lot is wrong with me, actually. WTF asshole mother fucker who thought I could handle all of this. All of this is way much for one person to handle. I left the mall, upset and sent my little Mandy Bee a message. “I need your help. Call me.” I told her about the gift I needed to find. She of course made a ninja plan to help me tomorrow, go and find it. She called around to a few places. Tomorrow will be better with my sidekick in tow to help out with my crisis which is actually not a crisis at all. It felt like it today.

I got a text from your Sparkly. I went down to his office. I picked up Starbucks. A coffee for him. A water for me. We shared some fruit and nuts. We sat and caught up. Our weekly little catch up that means everything to me. “Why are your eyes so red today?” He asked. Fuck, I thought to myself. I was not going to mention to him, how I had been crying most of the day but apparently my bloodshot eyes were not cooperating. “Oh, that would just be because I’ve been crying all day.” “Why so much today? Just the usual?” he asked. “Yes. Just the usual. I just miss Ronan so much, all the time, that’s all.” He knows that. He always knows that. We talked about some other things. He was proud of the advice he gave me that I listened to. I told him how he was pretty much the only person I listened to in this life anymore. He knows that too. You know what I told him today? That my life without you is full of so much pain, sadness and hurt. That all I get now are beautiful moments in life. I don’t get a life full of beauty, only moments. Those moments mean so much to me. They are like the air I breathe and I inhale them as much as I can. This is why it is so important to me, the people we surround ourselves with and the life we choose to live. The moments of utter beauty and bliss that I only feel by being with certain people. I soak them up whenever I can, as much as I can. They help me to survive this life I live now, without your sparkly eyes, little laugh and sweet lips. A life full of moments is what I am left with, Ronan. I’m afraid this is the best it is going to get. I will be thankful for those moments. I am trying my best. But I miss the days when life was always beautiful, always joyful, always full of such love and laughter. Back when you were healthy and here. Everything was so simple and so easy. I was always so thankful for what we had. It’s hard to have the all ripped away and still look on the bright side of things. Mother fucking asshole cancer. I hate you.

We went out to dinner tonight to one of our favorite restaurants, Tarbell’s. We sat, just the 4 of us and I tried to let myself relax and enjoy our dinner. This never happens for me. My mind is always wandering to where you would be sitting, what you would be eating, how beautiful your little face would have looked lit up by the flickering of the candlelight. We talked about Poppy for a while. I told your brothers once again, how I really want to name this baby girl, Poppy. They are so not cool with it. Quinn looked at me and said, “Why do you want to name her Poppy? That is basically like naming her Wooddawg.” I had to laugh at that. I told him about the story that somebody told me about the Poppy flower.

Flanders is the name of the whole western part of Belgium. It saw some of the most concentrated and bloodiest fights at the first world war .

There was complete devastation. Buildings, roads, trees and natural life is simply disappeared. Where once there were homes and farms there was now a sea of mud, a grave for the dead where the men still live and fought.

Only one other living thing survived and that was the poppy, flowering each year with the coming of the warm weather. It brought life, hope, color and reassurance to those still fighting.

In Flanders Fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

 

We are the Dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,
Loved and were loved, and now we lie,
In Flanders Fields.
Take up our quarrel with the foe
To you from failing hands we throw
The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders Fields.
John McCrae 1915

I’ve am living in a war zone every single day. I am surviving, just like the Poppy flower. If I wasn’t sold on the name Poppy, I sure am now. Who am I kidding? I think the name is darling and it truly makes me smile. It makes me feel happy. I don’t think there is any deciding until we actually see this baby girl. Even if we name her something else, she will be called Poppy as a nickname. It is already her name, and she is not even here. Now if I can only get those brothers of yours on Team Poppy. I think you would have liked the name. I think it would have gotten the Ronan seal of approval.

This is the end of your story for tonight, baby doll . I am as always, wiped out. I’ll fall asleep quickly as I have been doing so easily lately. Only to wake up around midnight to toss and turn for the rest of the night. I kind of miss my Ambien is the devil days. The devil was kind of fun to dance with. Sometimes, I miss it. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, little one.

xoxo

Of course your Nana didn’t leave your name off of the treehouse.

Ronan. I have to live the rest of my life without the touch of your little hand, without hearing your sweet giggles, without getting lost in your piercing blue eyes. Somedays this makes me extremely sad. Somedays this makes me super bitter. Today, I found myself not crying, but looking at all the people around me and going why do you get to live and he doesn’t? He would have been such a good person. He would have made this world so much more beautiful. Who lives and who dies and who decides??? And why??? I’ll never have the answers to these questions. These thoughts fill my head at the most random moments. Today it was while walking through the local Walmart to pick up some water. I was thinking these thoughts then I get the other little voice in my head that says, “You are a bad person for thinking that your son deserved to live, yet this jack off who is yelling at his 8 kids, should die.” I quickly tell that little voice to fuck off, because I am just being honest and any mother would feel this way. If I can’t be honest in my head, than I can’t be honest anywhere. Thoughts like this leave me feeling restless and I often feel trapped in my own head or like a hamster that is running around on that freaking spinning wheel, going nowhere and never knowing when to stop. Love that never-ending cycle of grief/shame/resentment/guilt/sadness that I cannot seem to escape.

Today, I tried to get lost in the world of your brothers. I think I faked it really well. I played baseball with them for a few hours today. I pretended not to be looking for you everywhere, waiting to see you up next to bat. I took them to lunch. We went to see the new, “Ice Age,” move which you know destroyed me. That was one of your favorites. You loved that Scrat character so much. After the movie, we came home and played more baseball. I headed out to meet our Bri Bri for a quick run around the lake. It felt good to get out there and run. I haven’t been running much in AZ due to not being motivated to do so in the brutal heat. I’d rather hike instead. I’ve been saving my running for this Washington trip. It’s one of my favorite places to run from everything in my head that I cannot seem to escape. I didn’t escape anything today, but I got to spend a little time with my sissy which is always a treat. I miss her. I know you do, too.

I heard another story today about a maybe cancer faker in this very real and sad cancer world that I know all too well. I cannot even get upset about it tonight because anybody that would do such a thing… well, they are trapped in a hell of their own that I cannot even fathom. My normal self would be swearing up and down in my head, my blood would be boiling… but I don’t even have words tonight for somebody that would do such a thing. I am in a peaceful place and for once, I refuse to give into to the evil of the world around me and let it ruin the quietness that I am feeling tonight. Tonight, I don’t feel spicy or angry or like swearing like a truck driver. I am calm, tired, and listening to your brothers sleeping soundly is giving me comfort that I need to listen to for once.

I don’t have a lot to say tonight. I left my Ambien back in Phoenix. I don’t miss it. I slept well last night as I always seems to do here. The fresh air is good for me. I had a moment of panic yesterday when I went down to your treehouse with your brothers. Someone (I think your Nana) had painted little individual signs with all of your names on them to attach to the front of the treehouse wall. The door to the tree house was open as I was examining the names that hung above. My stomach dropped and I yelled to your brothers, “Why isn’t Ronan’s name up there?!” I almost started to cry. Liam yelled down to me, “It is mom. It’s on the front of the door, see.” There it was. In purple of course. I felt bad. Of course your Nana would not leave your name off of the tree house. Of course your Nana would not, not include you, just because you are not here. This is the same Nana, that had presents wrapped and underneath the Christmas Tree for you this year. She would NEVER leave you out just because you are not here. I cannot believe even for a second, that I thought she would. She includes you in everything that she does, every single day. She would never sweep you under the rug and pretend that you didn’t exist. She would never take you out of the equation. All she has to do is look at me and I know she is thinking about you. It’s painful to see but I am so thankful to know.

I have a lot more to tell you tonight all of a sudden. But I am too tired to continue on. It’s late little bug. I’m going to cuddle up to your brothers now. They both refuse to sleep in their room here and are tucked away in bed, with me. I don’t mind; I only wish you were crammed in between us. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, Ro baby.

xoxo

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Ronan’s Day of LOVE

Ronan. I drive home. Alone. In the silence. With your blanket on my lap and your ashes around my neck. Blinded by my tears. I know what I am coming home to. An empty house. I pull into our driveway. Your bedroom window is the first thing I see. Your blinds are open. Everything is just the way you left it. Your room has not been touched. Your clothes are still in your drawers, your closet is filled with all the things you never even got to wear. The hand me downs from your brothers, in bins in your closet. You should be playing in your room. You are not. I hold my breath. Wishing for time to be reversed. I remember everything about this time last year. Everything from the text messages I sent, the phone conversations I had on the patio, to way you told me you loved me to the moon and back, how even though we were at the Ryan House, I did not think you were going to die. Nobody would be so cruel, to make us be apart, right? Who would do such a thing?

Somebody. Somebody did and now May is here. As of today, I only had 9 days left with you. Just 9 days. What would I have done differently, if I had known I only had 9 days to spend with you? I would have not slept. I would have told you over and over, how much I love you. I would have told you over and over, how proud I was to have you as my son. I would have told you over and over, how lucky I was to have you for the almost 4 years that I did. I would have told you how sorry I was. I would have kissed your lips, your fingers, your toes, a hundred thousand times. I would tell you how hard I will work for the rest of my life, to help others because that is one of the few things that is going to get me through this. My soul does not belong to myself anymore. I gave it up the second you left me. You took it with you. I don’t want it back. I know you are keeping it safe for me. I wish I would have had some poison to drink with me. The second you took your last breaths, I could have taken the poison and drank it too, so I could have died with you. So you wouldn’t have to be alone, without me. Like Romeo and Juliet. Only we loved each other so much more than they did. I’m sorry I cannot be with you. It is so wrong, Ronan. So very wrong.

I need you. I cannot do May. I said those words tonight. I know you heard them. I know you saw me. I’m sorry if you saw the pain in my eyes, the hot tears that ran down my cheeks, the way I said, “No, no, no,” over and over again as I clung to the one thing that makes me feel closest to you. Please make May go away. Please bring him back. Please. I cannot do May.

But May is here. There is no stopping it. I would have sent out your birthday party invitations now. We would have had an awesome party. Anything you wanted. I’m sure it would have been Star Wars related. I wonder sometimes if you would have ever outgrown your Star Wars phase. Now, I’ll never get to know because to me, you’ll love Star Wars forever. May 12, you would have been 5. That seems so big. You would have been such an amazing little 5-year-old. I’m still going to plan your party, even though you are not here. I’m calling May 12, 2012 Ronan’s Day of Love. We are doing something very special down at Phoenix Children’s Hospital to make some very sick sweet kids, smile. It’s exactly the way you would have wanted it to be. It’s going to be a very special day down there all because of you. I cannot be there. Not this year. It’s too much. I’ve got our lovely little board members handling it all as well as my intern Rissy and your Liz. They will do a great job.

So, Ronan’s Day of Love. I’ve come up with a few ideas. I think we should all wear purple for Ronan’s Birthday. It’s such a great color. I really loved all of the balloons for his birthday last year. Purple was his favorite color so if you all want to buy purple balloons and let them go, that would be so sweet. Any color would be fine, but purple was his favorite. I loved seeing all the pictures from it too, so if you want to snap the pics and email them to me, that would be nice to see. Any donations to his foundation are always welcome, of course. We are getting pretty close to getting Dr. Mosse’s trial funded. This Marathon of Madness has brought in some good money and we are so thankful for all the support. I’m not done planning Ronan’s party but I’m getting tired. One more thing that I can think of that I would like you to do is grab your child, children, sister, brother, friend, aunt, uncle,…. whomever you are closet to and say these words over and over to them…,”I am so lucky to have you.” I used to say those words over and over to Ronan all the time. And now I’m not so lucky, because he is not here for me to hold and tell him how lucky I was. I always knew. Everyday with that child was such a gift. A gift that I will never understand why it had to be taken away. I will never accept all that he went through and his death. I will carry that anger and pain with me for the rest of my life. It’s mine to carry. It’s a part of Ronan. I’m not letting that go.

But I have to go now. It’s been 2 weeks without Ambien. After tonight, I had to take one. Sometimes the screaming in my head and the tears just won’t stop. Somethings I have to say enough. I’ll be surprised if this post even made sense. I do some weeeeiiiirrddd shit on Ambien. Thank god I have no desire to go and drive a car. Tent City, here I come! Bucket list Rita!!!

G’nite Ro baby. I love you to the moon and back. You are my best friend. You were the best thing that has ever been mine. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

A promise and a baby lizard.

 

Ro baby. Hi. Hola. I cannot believe you are not here. I cannot believe you are really gone. I hate this so much. I’ve had a lot going on. I’ve done my hiking everyday or every night just like I said I would. I’m proud that I’ve stuck with it and have not missed a day. Even on the days that I have not been feeling well or have been too sad, tired, sore, or it’s too late. I don’t care. I have made myself climb that mountain, every single day. I have no excuse not to. I broke the most important promise in the world to you, which was how I promised to save you. I’m not breaking this one. I will spend the rest of my life, fulfilling the promises I make to you. It’s one of the things I take very seriously in this oh so insane life without you.

I had  a board meeting yesterday. It was productive and fast. We are getting a lot of things done. I made it through yesterday by the skin of my teeth and a very long, hot hike. I’ve slept the past 4 nights without our little frienenemy, Ambien. Yay me. My sleep has been horrific though. So many intense nightmares. I cannot even think about them without being sick. A lot of them have to do with you being tortured and I cannot get to you, in time to save you. I wake up scared and sad but I’m back to fighting off having to take Ambien. I don’t like taking any kind of prescription sleep aids. I’m back to trying to suffer through sleep, without their help. Dr. Jo is happy about that. I am too.

I spent today running around, getting things done. It seemed everywhere I went, I was surrounded by babies. It was weird. It made me really sad and miss you. I met Rita for lunch. I was waiting for her and I texted her something like, “Fucking babies everywhere.” She said we could go somewhere else. I told her no. That I would just ignore the babies. She got to the restaurant. I think she saw the look on my face as sweet innocent baby #1 was right behind me. She sat down. She looked at me and goes, “Oh my god. Whatever you do, DO NOT TURN AROUND. They just took their baby out and it is a lizard. It’s not even a human. They had a freaking lizard for a baby and it is disgusting.” I started cracking up. The baby lizard story continued for a few minutes while the laughter escaped my lips. It was a really, really, good story. I almost believed it. That Rita of yours, knows just how to make me giggle when I need it the most. #Thankful (hashtag, right Rita?)

After lunch I ran to see Dr. JoRo. We sat in her office and hashed out what has been going on. I cried. A lot. She asked what we were doing, this time last year. I told her. She asked me if I had written it down. I said I am pretty sure I had written a blog entry. She asked if I minded if she looked it up, from around this time, last year. I told her I never re read what I wrote, but sure. She found an entry. She read it out loud. She had to stop a few times, to compose herself. I just sat quietly and let the tears slide down my cheeks. I closed my eyes and pretended like I was listening to someone else’s story. Please don’t let this be about us. Please don’t let this be about you. I begged. I pleaded. I opened my eyes. There your little obituary sat on the same place it always is. Right in the middle of her desk. This is our story and it fucking sucks. I don’t care what good comes from this, Ro. All I want is you back here with me. More than anything.

I’ve been making plans though. Plans for your birthday, plans for our trip, plans for summer, plans for this marathon of madness. Lots of plans. Lots of plans that I don’t want to make but what choice do I have? I have to do these things for my sanity and for the sake of your best brothers, who deserve to have as normal as a summer as possible. I saw your Sparkly. I had your GiGi with me when I saw him.

“Why are you carrying that around? I’ve never seen you do that.”

I had it draped over my neck.

“I need it today. It smells like him. I take it a lot of places. I just don’t pull it out in front of you.”

He gave me that curious/sad look that I get a lot. We chatted about some things that have gone on/are going on. I sat quietly and let him talk. Sometimes I need to do that. Sometimes, I don’t have much to say because it’s all I can do not to choke on my tears. Sometimes, it’s just good for me to sit back and listen. He may have told me sometimes he wants to ring my neck due to certain things that tend to just come flying out of my mouth. I told him I knew. I apologized for my non existant filter that does not exist around him. I asked him what was I supposed to do? I told him to stop telling me I was going to be fine because that is what he is always telling me. I finally got him today, to admit that I am not going to be fine. He told me today, “I know you are not going to be fine. I’m not telling you this ever again. I am going to tell you what I know about you and that is you are going to survive this. You will survive.”

I buried my face into your blanket. I spattered out the words, “May. How am I going to do May?”

“You know how you are going to do May? With Ronan. Ronan will get you through May. Nobody else. You have to trust that. He is not going to let you down. He is going to get you through May. I promise you that.”

I looked up, my eyes burning with tears. I quietly said, “O.k.” and nodded my head. I trust his words. I trust you. I have to, Ronan. I just wish I didn’t have to. I just wish I had you back here with you trusting me, because that’s the way it should be. It should not be like this.

I fell asleep, baby doll. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

A barefoot hike and a spicy little dragon

Ronan. Every single morning I wake up, the first thing I do is miss you. I will never be the mama that wakes up with a fresh set of eyes. My eyes are always sad, mostly bloodshot and my heart is always heavy. Every single morning, I have to make a choice to get out of bed. It’s a choice because a lot of days, I do not want to wake up at all. After a very heavily induced Ambien coma sleep last night (yeah, I totally went there), I woke up this morning saying all kinds of shit in my head. You HAVE to get up today. You HAVE to make 2 decisions today. You HAVE to check 2 things off of your list. You have to start making some decisions about Ronan’s death day/birthday that is approaching. I get up. I make my way to your brothers room the same way I do every morning. I walk past your room. My stomach drops that you are not in there. Your bed is neatly made. I go into Liam and Quinn’s bedroom. I open their blinds. “Good morning, boys! Rise and shine!” I turn on their shower. I text back and forth with Rita. We make some plans for tonight, as a family. YAY! I get to see her little dragon! I pack your brothers lunches and drop them off at school. “Bye boys! Have the best day! Try your hardest! Be nice! Be kind! Help others! But don’t take anyone’s crap! I love you!”

I decide to make a run to Target for a couple of things and one of them includes a couple of little trucks for my little dragon friend of mine. I get so excited about seeing him. I love his little raspy voice, the way he says my name over and over, just to say it, and the way I get to hear him call out to Rita, “Mama,” because that is what he calls her. I am a sucker for that mama word. I am a sucker for the way he sometimes talks about himself in 3rd person. I am a sucker for this little dragon friend of mine who makes me want another baby/child so freaking badly. I would actually just like to take him home, but I don’t his two totally amazeballs parents, would be o.k. this. I’ll just continue to take him in the doses I get him in, which totally makes my day.

It’s while browsing through the toy aisle at Target that I of course, walk past the Star Wars toys. I can’t resist. My heart flip-flops back and forth. New guys! New helmet guys that Ronan did not have, but totally would have wanted. I pick them up. I put them back. I almost walk away. I can’t. I turn around and grab the new guys and throw them in my cart. I’m buying them for Ronan. I don’t care if he is not here to play with them. I run home, look at my get two fucking things done list, I sit down and do them. Good job, you. I look around at our house. It’s so freaking clean. Everything is put away. There is not even laundry to do or windows to clean from your little pudgy, dirty hands smearing stuff everywhere. This is FUCKING BULLSHIT. I throw on my workout clothes. Well, since there is no maybe baby, I guess I can go beat myself up a bit. I drive to our mountain.

I listen to Dr. JoRo’s voice in my head telling me, no headphones… just try to be quiet. To be mindful. I run up our mountain. Except instead of taking our usual route when I get to the top, I turn the corner instead. I slip off my shoes and continue up, down, around, and around the unfamiliar trails. It’s hot. Nobody is around at all. My heaven. Inferno hiking season is almost back. My feet don’t really feel any pain. I run for a long time, barefoot. I stop after about an hour and a half of hiking up, up and up. I find a nice spot, throw my things down, sit down on a big, black rock. I close my eyes for a long time and think about you. I snap a picture to send to Rita. She responds back that the cactus I’m sitting in front of, looks like it flipping off cancer. I laugh. It totally does.

I head back down the mountain, keeping my shoes off for half of the way. I stop to put them on and start to cry. A few ideas trickle into my head about what it is, that I would like to ask people to do for your death day. I’ve decided that’s what I’m calling it. Not your passing day (that sounds too sweet) not your anniversary (i hate that too) I guess I could call it your Fuckiversary. That has a nice ring to it as well. You deathday/fucking bullshit Fuckiversary it is. I know a lot of people will want to do something. I’m creating a little list in my head of what it is, I would like to see done. Up until today, I have not been able to even think about it without getting physically ill and drawing a total blank. It was only today, during my hike of numb pain, that ideas started to spin around. I’ll write about them later, not tonight. I’m tired and I want to be able to let this all come about, naturally, and I don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all figured out yet.

My little hike lasted 3 hours. It was nice to be outside, connecting with nature in a physical way. I get in a funk when I don’t do things like that. I always feel close to you and I tend to feel the closest to you, on that little mountain of ours. I left your bracelets all over the same tree below, like I do every single time I am there. I always wonder who finds them. I always wonder if they will google your name and learn about the most beautiful little boy who ever lived. I hope they do.

I went to your favorite restaurant tonight, Chelsea’s Kitchen, with that little Dragon friend of mine, his parents, your daddy and brothers. I felt like you were there with us. Especially as I watched Little Dragon, jump into the water fountain outside of the restaurant with his shoes, socks and pants on. If you were there, you totally would have done it with him and I would have laughed. I laughed and I almost heard your giggles in the distance. I laughed even harder when that Little Dragon, grabbed someone’s shoe that was just sitting near a rock by the patio (seriously who takes their shoes off, at a restaurant?? if you ask me, they were just begging to be thrown into the water by a very curious 4/maybe 5 year old) and threw it in the fountain/pond. Such a little rebel Ronan move. Your brothers thought it was hilarious. Rita, apologized profusely, but secretly /not so secretly to me, thought it was funny. I looked up at the sky and blew you a kiss. It was a great ending to an almost good day.

I love you to the moon and back my very spicy, little monkey boy. I’m so sorry for all of this. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

Whipped Cream Kisses for Dessert

Ro baby. What in the world happened last night and today that I can exist on only 4 hours of sleep, like it’s no big deal? Oh, I know….your death. This coming from a girl who used to easily sleep 8 to 10 hours a night. Sometimes 12. I was totally that girl, that mom, that me. Not anymore. The peacefulness of sleep is hard to come by, especially on nights like last night where nothing out of the ordinary happens; just reality. Last night I fought sleep until 6 a.m. I did a lot of talking to myself, played a lot of musical beds, sent some emails, posted some stuff on FB about zombies and how 4 a.m. sucks. 4 a.m. sucks, but 6 a.m. when the birds start to chirp, is even worse. 6 a.m. and you know enough is enough, so you pop an Ambien because nothing else works. I slept from about 6:20-10 a.m. I got up, showered and my mind was racing with things that I needed to do, for your foundation. So much stuff that it was making my head spin. I went to my little Starbucks office and worked away not even feeling the hangover from the lack of sleep. I was really productive during my hours at the Starbucks office, despite the extra annoying, really bad soft porn music that blared from the speakers. I got recognized by a RoFan of yours which I was really surprised by because I only go to this Starbucks for the reason that I won’t run into anyone. It’s my secret Starbucks office where nobody knows my name. Or so I thought. Today, this girl was sitting by me for a while with a boyfriend or boy friend of hers. They got up and left and I was so into what I was doing, that I hardly noticed. A minute later I noticed the girl as she came walking back through the doors and headed straight for me. I looked up just as her soft eyes asked if I was Maya. I smiled and said yes. She told me she reads this blog. I asked her how long she had been reading it for and how she found out about you. She said she heard about you when we were on Channel 12, about needing an airplane to get you to New York. Whoa. What a sweet, loyal dolly. She’s been reading for a long time. She told me how sorry she was. I tried not to get choked up as I looked into the eyes of this girl who I swear could have been 17. I gave her a bunch of your bracelets and RoCards. She seemed so nervous and shy. I told her thanks for saying hello. I meant it. She made me smile.

Margarita stopped by the F U Cancer Starbucks office to say hi and help me with some things. Turns out, by the time she arrived my brain had turned to mush. I’m pretty sure she was looking into the eyes of a zombie but she still managed to make me laugh. A real laugh too which only a few people in my life seem to be able to make me do anymore. She being one of them. I had filled out an application for something (which will remain TOP SECRET classified information until more comes of it) and my application totally sucked balls. I filled it out last night during my insomnia marathon. Margarita looked it over and goes, “Yeah… I think we can do better than this.” HA! There is nothing I appreciate more than someone who can tell it like it is. She may have saved our secret mission today because if I would have actually sent in what I had filled out, I can guarantee you it would have went right into some fancy NYC recycling bin. Thanks, Rita. Rawr! You are a RoSaver! The rest of the day/evening was spent with your Luke, Daddy and brothers. We all went to the batting cages and hit some balls. I tried to enjoy it but as you know, when going to places like this I am constantly looking over my shoulder for you to appear. I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking for you. I watched your brothers as they ran around full of so much love and life, just like they should be. I closed my eyes and imagined you were there with us and for a split second, everything in the world was perfect. Simple perfection was ripped to shreds by the reality of Hell when the giggles of a child nearby forced me to open my eyes, just to make sure it wasn’t you. It wasn’t. Fucking fuck.

These are the things I’ve seen in the past 24 hours that I just can’t deal with because it is as if salt is being poured into an open wound. The real world. The real, non bereaved, I didn’t lose a Ronan and you did world. A lunch in the middle of the day at your favorite restaurant. A lunch with the best company in the world. A new friend and an even newer friend on the most delicious day (sunny. breezy. chilly. not rainy. sunny was delicious before you died) We sat outside as the breeze whispered in my ear and I swear I could hear your voice. My eyes gazed up from the menu only to fall on the table nearby. A mom. A dad. A little boy, around 3. A new baby. The little boy, roams carelessly around the tables. Almost in a mocking sort of way that only a grieving mother would feel. The parents look on, and drink their bottle of wine in the middle of the day. A whole big bottle of red wine. Another one is ordered. They pay no attention to the little boy as he wanders off, far off. Not far enough to get swiped up, but maybe….. it could happen. But the mom and the dad are so calm, so clueless, so free that they don’t mind. They trust in the world that the fates will be kind as they let their child wander about. They look as if they don’t have a care in the world and their big bubble looks oh so delicious. I watch with my blood-shot eyes, worrying……..over what? I’m pretty sure the cancer grim reaper does not live at Chelsea’s Kitchen. Hey! That’s too far! Hey! He’s talking to strangers. But the strangers just smile and laugh. He’s so cute they say. The mom and the dad don’t really reply, they look up and smile instead at the strangers almost in a conceited sort of way. They gaze into each others eyes as they’ve just had the best sex of their lives and now they are going to drink more wine and do it again. Their children certainly don’t cramp their style. They are so mellow and laid back. I’m pretty sure the VW bus strapped with surfboards on the hood and the California license plates, belonged to them. They continue to drink the wine. The little boy returns to the table. The mom orders dessert. The little boy goes back up in his high chair. So high. I watch as he eats the whipped cream with his mama. I watch her kiss it off of his lips, they way I used to kiss it off of yours. She asks for more wine. She is tiny, I think to myself. How can she drink so much wine? Don’t they have to drive home? Oh, how I hope they walked. But even that scares me. They have a brand new little baby, too. I’m confused. Wine. Toddler. Baby. Middle of the day. Smiles all around. Is this really real? Who lives this reality? It certainly isn’t mine. Is it everyone else’s, but mine? The little boy finishes his desert. He isn’t strapped into his high chair. He stands up in it and nobody cares. Or maybe it is that thing they seem to have going on where they trust in the world so much so they just know everything will be o.k. What’s that like? I can’t remember. He stands up and I start to count. 1,2,3,4,5…………. Hey! How is that allowed? He could fall! 45 seconds later and he almost does. But his mama swoops in to catch him right before the waitress does. The waitress gives a nervous giggle. The mom does not. She giggles as if something was truly funny. How is she so carefree, I wonder? Must be the flower in her hair. The long, flowy childlike hair. My lunch dates watch this interaction as well…. but not as closely as I do. I am borderline, obsessed. I would have never been so carefree with Ronan in a restaurant, I think to myself. I would have never let him wander without keeping my eye on him every single second. I would have never let him stand up in a high chair for 45 seconds only to catch him right before he fell. I would have never drank 2 bottles of wine, in the middle of the day. Or ever. What’s their secret? Because clearly they have the key to happiness. It was all over their smirky faces that were saying to me, you have a dead child and we do not! Sucks to be you! Or maybe they really do but I’ll never know. I know I cannot truly know the story of this family by my 60 minute observation. But in my mind, the story that I had made up in my head, was too much to take. After the almost high chair falling incident, I looked up at my 2 new friends like a deer in headlights. I’ve gotta go. This is giving me way too much anxiety. They both knew it and we quickly up and bolted. After paying, of course. Thanks, Rita;) I left your little restaurant, and that family behind yesterday. But not without feeling the stings from the open salt wound that is now my heart.

That’s my story tonight baby doll. It’s late. I’m tired but not really. I will try to sleep. I love you so much. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams. G’nite.

xoxo

Diamonds Are Not a Girl’s Best Friend

Ronan. Does it sometimes feel like I want to rain on everybody’s happy parade? Because I don’t. I am happy there are happy people out there. I am happy that most people out there do not know what it feels like to lose a child….. well, I may be taking the happy word a little too far, because you know I don’t know what happy feels like anymore. So let’s tell it like it is…. happy is not the right word. I am glad. Glad that most people won’t know this pain. But I really hope from reading this story, they get how lucky they are and they choose to live life a little differently. Just by knowing how it really is the small things in life, that matter the most. The sweet whispers of a child, the helping of a stranger, the butterfly kisses of the world, a child’s hand, laughter, a solid marriage, strong friendships, true friendships, loving yourself, soul mates, being kind to others, sparky eyes, and helping when you are in a position to do so. These are the things that matter in life. Nothing else.

I have some bereaved mommy confessions to make. I have a lot of them, but in order to confess them all, I would need to write a book. And maybe a good attorney to keep me out of jail. Let’s just start with a couple tonight. The one that makes me feel like such a jerk. Let’s call this one, “Confessions of a bereaved mommy who now hates to wear jewelry.” This didn’t happen until after I lost you. Until I started wearing your ashes around my neck. Until one day, I looked down at my diamond ring and got really mad. It made no sense. I did everything right. I married the right man. We loved each other. We had formed a house full of respect, love, compassion, strength and honesty. But now our baby boy, was dead. But I had the pretty jewelry. The jewelry was there, but you were not. I didn’t want the jewelry. I only wanted you. I slowly started to put all of my pretties away. Christmas and my birthday came and went. Guess what was given to me? A new pretty ring and matching earrings. Tears were cried over the gifts that I did not want. Your daddy only wanted to make me smile. But I cried instead. Take it away. I don’t want it. It’s too pretty for me to wear. And I am so ugly. Can’t you see how ugly and sad I am?? I don’t deserve to wear this pretty jewelry. I have Ronan, around my neck… I don’t need anything else. None of this stuff really matters and because life is not fair, the jewelry gets to stay and Ronan gets to die? I want the jewelry to die, instead. Your daddy insisted I keep it all. I did. I tried. I’ve worn the pretty ring and earrings once and it didn’t make me happy; it just makes me sad to look at. I put it away with the rest of my things. It came up tonight, again. I begged your daddy to take it all back. “I won’t wear it!” I told that daddy of yours. “But you are so thoughtful. Thank you. It really is the thought that counts, Daddy Woo….. but the only thing I need to wear…..is Ronan.” I’ll mix it up a bit, Ro. I’ll wear some inexpensive skull bracelets around my arms, your bracelets, or some cheap Forever 21 jewelry that is bright, but diamonds, gems, stones….. I can’t do it. I used to think diamonds were a girls best friend. I thought that, until I had my best friend taken away from me. A diamond cannot replace you. A diamond cannot bring you back. A diamond cannot make me smile. A diamond only makes me sad. I fight with this a lot. Because I know anything and everything your daddy does, comes from such a good place. So why can’t I just suck it up, smile, and wear the pretty things? I mean, really…. it could be so easy to do. If I were a fake. But that’s just one thing I’m not. I cannot suck it up and fake it with the stupid jewelry. This makes me feel like a big, fat jerk but I cannot look away from the lesson I’ve learned from all of this. Pretty jewelry, and I don’t care how much you have….. will never truly make a person happy. When everything else is stripped away, when the most important thing you’ve ever had in your life, is taken away and all you are left with is pretty jewelry….it will not mend a broken heart. It really just DOES NOT matter. It is not what is really important in life. It won’t stop the tears, sadness, emptiness, or loneliness one feels. It won’t bring back my smile or you. It is only a reflection of broken promises, hopes and dreams. It’s a facade. It is overcompensation for what was supposed to be, but never will be again.

I tried today. So freaking hard to have the HAPPIEST ROENTINE’S DAY EVER! I had some productive things to take care of. I had a meeting. I put on my game face. I did a lot of nice things, for others. I brought cupcakes to your Sharon at PCH. I had coffee with your other lovie and gave him our card. The smile it brought to his face, made my entire day. But his smile did not come with false words like most peoples do. His smile came with watery eyes and words like, “I know you are in excruciating pain…..” I know he knows, which makes my pain worse. I don’t like that other people hurt because of this. I never wanted to hurt anyone, Ro. Especially the one’s we love the most. It makes me sad.

Our new friend, Margarita, dropped off dinner because I have seem to have lost my cooking skills/desire. (Total inside joke for my Saline Bean…. (“I seemed to have lost my keeeeysssss”) I sat at our table, in your spot and opened the cards from your Daddy, then Quinn, then Liam, and finally, you. Your card sang. I could hardly listen to it because the tears just started pouring. I smiled through my tears, kissed your daddy and brothers and told them thank you.

I drew a hot bath. Your brother, Quinn is still sick and Ronan…. confession number 2 of the night…. I cannot take care of him. It’s all I’ve been doing since Saturday and I am about to crack. I think I’ve become a bad mom. I would have never had these feelings before losing you. I feel like a big weight is on my chest. I feel like I can’t breathe. I feel like I don’t want to be a wife or a mom anymore. Do normal people feel this way? Or is it just me? Have I gone mad? I think so. I must be mad. Insane. And sad. So very sad.

I tried to make it a very special day, Ro….. but all I did was think about you and Ben. Ben with the Bald Head. Ben who likes to eat sushi and listen to The Beatles. Ben who has a very sad mommy for the worst reason possible. I’ll attach Ben’s caring bridge tonight because I need everyone to send them their extra thoughts, love, prayers and whatever else you might do. I’m only sending them you, Ro. Only you.

http://www.caringbridge.org/visit/benpurcell/journal

Please think about Ro and Ben all you people out there, reading this. Please don’t just make this your bedtime story while you sit reading it, dripping in your diamonds or ice cream. Please do something to help us change this… for your kids, your grandkids, your neighbors, your friends, for anyone you love. Please help us change this, because as of now…. our pain is not yours. But bubbles can burst at anytime. Never trust a bubble.

Ro baby. It’s Ambien coma out tonight. I have not taken anything in a week. I have been sleeping like a baby, in your bed, without Ambien. I’ve been sleeping in my dead babies bed. I can’t believe this is true, but it is. Today was too much. Tonight is too much. I need a break. I just need a break from all the screaming, crying, laughing, T.V., conversations, vivid dreams of everyone but you. Where are you? Why won’t you visit me, in my dreams? I miss you so much. I’m so sorry, Ronan. I hope you are safe. I love you, baby doll.

xoxo

Vegas on crack

;

Ronan. Is the picture above, sad? Because I wept just seeing it. It tells the story of everything that is wrong in this life, because you are gone. It tells the story of everything that should be, but is not. At least to me it does. Is everything sad? Because I can’t seem to stop crying. Is this because I spent much of my time in New York, not crying? I went days there, without crying. Now back here, I cannot seem to stop. I took my Ambien to go to sleep last night. Fucking Fuck. I just wanted to 6 solid hours of sleep without tossing and turning. Is that too much to ask? I woke up today, feeling rested. I thought it was going to be an o.k. day. I was wrong. I spent the morning being productive, trying to get some thank you cards addressed. It seems like I am drowning in them. I have to get them sent out. I hope there are not people out there, who think I am not thankful for all they have done, big and small. Nothing goes unnoticed. As I was addressing the envelopes, I thought to myself…. I really don’t recognize any of these names. Who are all of these selfless people, who love you so much that they wanted to help us in our darkest hours? Strangers? Long lost friends? Acquaintances? Is does not matter because they are all united by you so that makes me love them all, even if I may not know their faces. I feel like I know their hearts and they are beautiful.

I’m not sure what happened the rest of the day except I didn’t leave the house. I could easily become a hermit and I have decided I have developed Agoraphobia. Well, at least that is the way I felt today. I felt afraid of the world but hey…. that’s not right because I’m not supposed to be scared of anything. Today, I felt scared. Today, it seemed too bright outside to venture anywhere at all. So I didn’t. Do you know what the outside world looks like to me on most days? Las Vegas, on crack. Everything is so bright, that it hurts. Everything looks so fake and plastic. Everything feels like an illusion and a dream. Maybe I should move to Alaska where the sun doesn’t shine so much. I have a feeling my zombie self would do just fine there. I didn’t pick up the phone either, even though it kept ringing and my text messages, kept dinging. I was in the zone of cleaning out my jewelry drawer and I knew what I was going to find even though I wasn’t looking for it. The ziploc baggie that contains your hair. Your beautiful hair that I had saved when we shaved your head. I opened the baggie, felt your soft hair, and wept. In the middle of my crying, my doorbell rang. I threw on my big, chucky sweater and went to answer it. It was Mandy Bee and she was tired of me ignoring the phone and her. And she was worried. I let her in and let her hold me while I sobbed in her arms. I had the ziploc baggie of your hair in my hands. We sat on the couch and she tried to get me to leave with her. I told her I couldn’t go anywhere except for I had to meet your daddy at Dr. Rachels. I told her I needed to try to make myself look less like a zombie for that. She stayed with me as I somehow managed to throw on some mascara and take my hair out of it’s wet mop on top of my head. I totally had good intentions of leaving the house today, early on. I showered in the morning but I just couldn’t seem to manage much more than that.

Mandy Bee picked up your brothers at school for me. She brought them back to our house for a little playdate with her boys. She also insisted that she was taking me to dinner tonight. I told her no. I tried every excuse I could use, to get out of it. She wasn’t taking no for an answer. Your daddy took your brothers to play basketball. I headed out into the dark for a run. Mandy called me halfway through my run to tell me she was on her way to pick me up. That girl is so persistent. I finished my run just in time to hop in the shower before Mandy came to kidnap me. I answered the door and told Mandy I could not go anywhere that sweats/no makeup/ glasses on/wet hair up in a bun/chunky sweater/red eyes were not allowed. I also told her I could not eat because I had been throwing up all day. She totally pretended like she was agreeing to everything I was saying, but we ended up at True Foods anyway were I proceeded to eat a little something for her. I ate. I sat. We talked. I was glad I went out with her for the hour that I did. I needed the little shove that she gave me. I hope tomorrow is better. There has been a lot of screaming voices in my head again and they have not been saying very nice things. They are making me tired, restless, and exhausted. It’s obvious the grief grim reaper/inferno fuckwad Bob is back with a vengeance. I’ve been trying to let myself just be true to what I have felt the past couple of days. I have tried to be respectful of the way I am feeling by not forcing anything else. I am learning that grief comes in waves. It will never be a steady uphill process. I know I can get knocked back down, at anytime and it often feels like I am starting all over at square one. There is no rhyme or reason to this…. it’s just the way this grief thing works; for me at least. Everyone is different. All I can do it be patient and surrender to the way I am feeling, at this moment in time. One foot in front of the other as they say. Or two-steps backwards to go off the beaten path to an unknown destination. Nothing is guaranteed in life; especially not now. All I can do is keep trying to survive, one day at a time.

I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams little man. I love you to the moon and back.

xoxo

Snow Falling in Flagstaff

Ronan. Guilt is what I feel at this time, in this moment. For living this life, without you here. For the smiles that I’ve smiled, for the laugher I’ve done, for the love I’ve given to your brothers. Guilt for going on when you know, all I want to do is be with you. I wonder if the reason you insisted on being with me, almost every second of every day of the almost 4 years that I had you, is because you knew you wouldn’t be able to stay with me forever. I wonder if you miss me as much as I miss you. I wonder if you are as sad as I am because we are apart. I think that you are and it kills me that there is nothing that I can do about it. I can’t wipe your tears, hold you close and tell you that everything is going to be alright. I can’t promise you that I’ll never let anything happen to you, because it did. The worst possible thing that could have happened, did. And I will never stop being sorry for that. It is so unfair that the four of us are left here and you are gone. I constantly feel like I have forgotten you somewhere. I am constantly looking over my shoulder for you to come running around the corner. I don’t think I’ll ever stop looking for you.

I have been struggling with my sleep so much. The devil, Ambien has been in and out of my life since you were diagnosed. I try not to take it, but I’ve had a solid 3 weeks where I have taken it almost every night. Dr. Jo told me to try Valerian Root last week. She told me she takes 2 of those and she is out cold. So, I took 4 a few nights ago and nothing. I ended up taking my Ambien instead. I haven’t taken my Ambien for 3 nights in a row now. It has been horrific. The first night I fell asleep in our bed, with your daddy. I was in and out of sleep the entire night. I felt like my body was on fire. I had the most awful nightmares. I was watching myself scream your name, knowing that you were dead, but nobody could hear me or help me. Sounds like my real life. When I take Ambien, it puts me into such a heavy sleep, that I don’t dream at all. When I don’t take it, I toss and turn all night long, only to dream the most awful things. So what’s worse? I don’t know as they both seem bad. I know that I don’t want to rely on something to sleep so I am going to try to continue to tough this out. And if I need a break every once in a while, for now, it is o.k. Dr. Jo is trying to get me to meditate before bed or to try some yoga. It’s worth a shot, right??

We spent the weekend up in Flagstaff. It was another 3 day weekend and staying home just didn’t seem like an option. We tend to go stir crazy without you around. It’s like everyone is trying to overcompensate for the fact that you are not here. We headed up on Saturday and spent a couple of days enjoying the cooler weather and lazy days. Your daddy was actually able to relax. I tried too but it was hard to be up there for the first time, without you. I had a moment where I was walking into the living room and Liam was sitting down at the table on the floor. The top of his head, looked so much like the color of your hair, that I thought it was you. It was like I had the wind knocked out of me when I realized it was not. Your brothers were so kind to each other this weekend. They are such good boys. They didn’t fight at all, which seems so rare these days. I watched them as they played together, took care of each other, and helped out with a lot of the things we asked of them. We all snuggled on the couch and watched some movies, your daddy took them on an Arctic Cat ride, I took a long nap with Quinn, which I never do anymore. I snuggled up to him and let him remind me of you and the way we loved to take our naps together. Your brothers were extra sweet to me this weekend. I think they could tell I was sad about having to be without you, doing our normal family things that we loved to do. It snowed up in Flagstaff last night. I watched the snowflakes fall with tears in my eyes. You would have gone crazy over it and made me take you out in the middle of the night to play in it. I would have without hesitation.

It’s going to take a lot to heal us all. We all have some good ideas, of some things that can help. We are all being very open about our sadness and we talk about you all the time. But we are a different family now as we are all different people. Even your brothers. I keep wanting to write your little brothers. As if I feel that you were older then they are. I guess due to everything you went through and how strong you were about it all. I guess due to the fact that I now feel like you are older than them and you are the one watching out for them and protecting them. And the wisdom that you always had as you were so much wiser than your almost 4 years old of age. I always knew this about you. You truly were a gift to us all.

I have a busy week as I am leaving for New York soon. My solo trip that is much needed. I need some time to go back to our favorite city where I can just be for a little while. Some plans are falling into place which I am loving. I planned this trip without having anything to do but some very nice things are coming about. I am excited for the little adventure we are going to have together as I know you will be with me, the entire time.

Alright little man. I love you so much. I hope you are safe. I miss you so very much.

xoxo

Ronan’s Table for 6

Ro baby. I guess my last post was pretty happy and upbeat. I wish I could say I have spent the past few days, feeling the same way after writing the things I wrote. I didn’t end up falling asleep peacefully like I had hoped. I tossed until 3 a.m. and had to take the devil aka, Ambien in order to fall asleep. I woke up, feeling like shit…. but I went on with my day anyway. I don’t remember what I did, but I’m sure it was a lot of all the things I’m supposed to be doing, like being productive. All the things I’m supposed to be doing, like living life taking care of your brothers, the house, paying the bills, etc…. Being present. On Saturday, I went down to ASU to participate on a panel that Dr. JoRo had asked me to be a part of. It is for a class she is teaching at ASU on traumatic death. I sat on a panel, in front of her class with about 10 other bereaved parents and a grandmother too for about 5 hours…. but it felt like 10. Dr. Jo basically asked us to tell our stories and she then asked us all question after question regarding our tragedy. I watched as her students listened, wiped tears from their eyes, took notes, and tried to process the things that we were saying. I watched the ways they didn’t have to say anything at all, as I could hear their thoughts in their heads. I know each and every one of them begged whomever it is that they believe in, for this to never happen to them. I so wished I had been one of the students sitting in that class today, taking notes. Not the one the other side, talking about you and this fucked up story. I tried my best to get my words out in regards to you, my grief, and everything else that I am going through, but it was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be, mentally and emotionally. I was the first parent on the panel to be asked the questions, so I had to be quick on my feet with my responses. I had so many things racing through my mind and trying to articulate the words that I wanted to say, is so much easier for me to do in my writing rather then speaking. But I did my best and I did it from my heart. It was the best I could do. It’s one thing to write about you… I could do this in my sleep and I often do. To talk about you, on the spot, hurts so badly that it is almost impossible. One day, I hope to find my voice for you…. where it’s not one where I feel like I am gasping for air. I think I did an o.k. job yesterday…. I caught myself pinching myself on and off through out the day to make sure the day was real. Unfortunately, I felt all the pinches I gave myself. I cried a lot. How weird to be so vulnerable in front of so many strangers. A gig I never wanted. I gig that I’ll have to have for the rest of my life. I think I said the fuck word a few times and I remember making Dr. Jo’s students laugh by flipping them all off when she asked the question what we, as bereaved parents, would we like to say to all the people who say stupid things to us. Things like, “Well, my cat died so I know how you feel.” “You can have other kids.” “Heaven needed another angel.” “You were given this because you are strong enough to handle it.” The list goes on and on. My response to Dr. Jo and her class was, “I like to keep it short and sweet.” I then stuck my arm out and flipped everyone off. I remember hearing everyone laugh. You would have been proud of that, Ro baby. Fuck those people of the world and the stupid shit they say. They will never get it…. they are too fucking ignorant, self-absorbed, and brain washed by society.

After the “death panel,” as I called it to Dr. Jo, I left ASU with her and we went to grab some dinner with 3 other parents and the grandmother of the group who had lost not only her grandson to death, but her son as well to the grief. Her son is still here, but you know what I mean. The grief took him away for some time. It sounds like she is slowly getting him back but, ouch. That hurt hearing her say that yesterday, on that panel. I know that is how your Nana feels. That she not only lost you, but me as well. I know that is how many people feel as I may as well be dead too, because that’s the way I have been acting. The only thing is, it’s not an act. It’s the way I feel and I can’t change that. Someday maybe. But not now. While we were waiting for our table in the bar, where I sucked down my Coke…. the waitress came in to ask for a name for our table of 6. I looked at Jo. She looked at the waitress and goes, “Ronan.” I smiled. A few minutes later, the waitress came back saying, “Table for Ronan!” I had to wonder what the lady would have done or thought if she knew she was calling out the name of a dead child. This is the strange world I live in now. Where you have to make the dead live among the living, in any way possible. Even if it means to hear their name being called out at a restaurant because your table is ready. We all sat and talked about the day, our kids, or lives before this and now. Dr. Jo pointed up at the ceiling and how all the light fixtures were in the shape of little stars. It was your way of being there, after such a brutally hard day. It was your way of giving me the little giggle that I so miss. I then told the table how I used to call you feisty. How I used to say, “Ronan, you are so feisty!” How you would then scream back at me, “I NOT SPICY!” I told them it was one of my favorite things that you used to say to me. I miss that so much. I also told everyone at the table how I feel like it should be mandatory for bereaved parents’ to carry around tasers. And when people say stupid shit to us, we should just be able to taser their asses, instead of trying to answer their dumbass questions. Oh, how everyone laughed at this idea. I think a law needs to be passed for this to happen. I have so many people I would like to taser just to make them feel a tiny piece of the pain I feel 24 hours a day. I actually wish I didn’t have to taser anyone, Ronan. I wish people would just start thinking before speaking. I wish people would just be a little more thoughtful, kind, thankful and compassionate. I actually wish you were just here and I didn’t have to wish any of this shit. I would like to tell you that I left dinner and came home to our “happy,” house and fell into a peaceful sleep. I did not. I hate what I’m going to have to tell you next.

I left dinner, got into my car, and started to drive home. I wish I could tell you what happened for the next 40 minutes, but I can assure you I left my body for that time. I can swear to you that I should not have driven. I can swear to you, that I felt scared which is something that I never feel anymore. I somehow ended up out at Wildpass Resort, which is nowhere near our house. It’s on the east side of the valley. I was crying so hard that I had to pull over at a gas station where I sat, cried, felt my heart racing so fast that I thought it was going to explode. I almost called an ambulance. I had to make myself breathe for I knew if I didn’t, I was just going to suffocate to death. I ended up calling Dr. JoRo….. which is something I never do…. and she’ll be the first to tell you that. I hate to bother her, even though she is so good at making sure I know I am never bothering her. I called her last night as I knew if I didn’t, I would have been in big trouble. I tried to get out my words to her as to where I was and what had happened. I told her there were fireworks going off in the sky and how the fuck can fireworks even exist anymore. I sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed. She made sure I had pulled over somewhere safe. I told her I thought I had, but how lost I was. I said to her, “If I can’t find my way home, how am I supposed to find my way through life?” What a perfect metaphor, Ronan. I don’t know the answer. But I eventually ended up finding my way back home. Dr. Jo texted me so she could know I was safe and asked if I needed to talk. I told her that I was o.k. That I had made it home…. 2 hours after I had left her. I told her a hot bath and the reeses peanut butter cup that she had given me earlier in the week, had saved my life. For tonight. I fell asleep. I dreamed of you and your little bald head. I got to hold you but I knew you were going to die. I am just thankful that I got to see you.

Tomorrow is a new day. Tomorrow is your 8 months since you’ve been gone. I’m so sorry for that. I miss you so much. I know you know what I’m doing for you tomorrow, but I’m not saying too much about it now. If I’m meant to see you, to kiss your little lips, and feel your soft skin, I will. It’s not up to me, it’s up to you. I’m not scared. I love you so much. Sweet dreams, my not spicy little boy. I hope you are safe.

xoxo