More Gold Party Details!

I had a board meeting last night at The W. I am so excited for this party! It’s going to be Romazing! I’ve had so many people ask about the details for tables, which are going fast. As of now, you can purchase a table starting at $700 dollars. This includes: 10 tickets to the party, a bottle of Magnum Champagne and a bottle of Belvedere Vodka.

If you would like to purchase a table, please use the contact info below. But hurry! They are going fast!!!

RSVP
For VIP table reservations contact VIP@triyar.com or 602-405-0099

Again, here is the link to buy regular tickets. Those too, are going really fast. Thank you so much to everyone who has been buying them!!!

http://www.theronanthompsonfoundation.com/events/goldparty

Thank you to my sisters/family/board members who have worked so hard on this. I am so lucky to have you all in my life. This event is going to be so special and fun!

See you all there!

xoxo

Ronan. I’ve been writing. Just not posting. I know you know why. I’m sorry. Today, I’m doing the candy cart for you at PCH. I think it’s going to take a lot to get me through today. I think I could use you around, to help me. I’ll be seeing lots of little bald heads, but yours will always be my favorite. I love you baby boy. I miss you so much. I promise to post what I’ve been writing, soon. I just can’t right now. I love you. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

 

 

Stuck on the Top of a Mountain in the Middle of a Haboob. A Haboob. Google it. It’s real.

Ronan. I made it through today. But tomorrow has to come now, too. The 9th. 16 months. Oh, and don’t forget August 13th, your diagnoses day. It’s always something around here. What choice do I have but to keep rolling with the punches? I don’t. This fucking bullshit grief/bereaved parent/life thing is such fucking bullshit. It’s a constant struggle to feel like I can breathe on most days. How did I get through today? With your help of course. It’s always you that helps me through the most.

I got through today by trying to be kind to myself. I got through today by allowing myself to feel, whatever it is that I needed to feel. I got though today by a little help from my friends and strangers. I got through today by looking at the smiles on your brothers faces. I got though today with the little sign that you sent me to let me know that you are still with me. It was a long fucking day though. I am beat.

Who gets off a red-eye only to land straight on my door step with flowers, donuts, a card, and some silly school things for your brothers? Only our crazy, Heather Freaking Firecracker. Our spicy little friend whose heart is bigger then her body. Not like that is saying much, because she is so itty bitty. She made my morning a little brighter which helped contain my tears for the drop off that I had to do. I dropped off your brothers. I didn’t let myself sit there and sob. I peeled out of that school like my hair was on fire. Not really. I may break a lot of rules, but speeding in a school zone is not one of them. I took a deep breath and calmly left school. I ran some errands. I had a mini breakdown in a parking lot, in my car. I looked at my phone. Your Sparkly: I hope you are o.k. Me: Not o.k. I’m sorry. I can’t believe he is not here. I think I let him down. Him: Please don’t do this. You are the best mom. You did NOT let him down. Me: insert sobbing here: It wasn’t enough. How could it not have been enough? You are making me cry. Stop making me cry. He knows it wasn’t him, who was making me cry. It never is. I pulled it together. I drove through a drive through car wash, for you. Because I used to just take you to them, when our car wasn’t even dirty because you loved them so much. I met a stranger for coffee. We have a mutual friend. She asked if I could meet this week. I jumped at the chance to meet her today. She knew what today was. I told her that it would give me something to look forward to; our little meeting of strangers. I left there feeling like she could be my friend.

I went to the freaking grocery store. I hate the grocery store. I made myself get things done for your brothers. I told myself I was going to cook dinner tonight. I picked your brothers up from school. “Hi boys! How was your day? Tell me everything!” I asked 50 questions. They were so happy. They had such a good first day. I tried my best to push down my sadness. I am so glad they had such a wonderful day. I let this fill me with the little happiness that I am capable of feeling now. It’s enough. I get them home, make snacks, we start homework. I engage and help them. A treat is left at our front doorstep by one of our friends/neighbors. This melts my broken heart. It makes your brothers smile. They gobble up the deliciousness. Your daddy gets home. We cook dinner, together. Kind of. Not really. I let him cook. I shredded the lettuce. Does that count? I don’t sit down to eat. I don’t eat again today. It’s o.k. I’m not hungry. I get a text from our lovie, Kassie. “Do you want to hike? I need to for my sanity.” “Absolutely,” I say. “I’ll meet you on our mountain, at 7.” Your daddy takes the boys to The Village.

I meet up with Kass. The girl who is literally looks like sunshine, but with a bit of a dark cloud above her. I call that dark cloud, wisdom and pain. Wisdom and pain that gives her young life, so much more meaning than others. I met her through this blog. The crazy thing is, after we started up our little friendship, we both found out that you shared a room at PCH with her brother who was going through cancer treatment. He was older. I never met Kassie. I am so glad I know her now. She likes to inferno hike with me. She even goes to the inferno without me. We sat at the top for a long time. We talk about everything. We talked a lot about you. A man came up to the top. We struck up a conversation with him. It was odd. Everyone has a story. He told us he liked to hike to the top of the mountain and then say 5 things that he was grateful for. He asked if we wanted to do it out loud with him. Sure. O.k. Why not. He said his list. I went next. Deep breath. I tried to clear my head. I struggled with what to say. I need to work on my gratitude list a little more I guess. I managed to come up with 5 things. I think they were this:

1) My husband. He walks on water.

2) My twins

3) The love between myself and my Ronan. He is the reason I continue to go on. He is the reason for everything I do.

4) The kindness of strangers

5) My family and friends.

It took everything for me to not scream from the top of my lungs, ” I AM NOT GRATEFUL FOR ANYTHING BECAUSE CANCER KILLED THE LOVE OF MY LIFE! I WAS GRATEFUL FOR EVERYTHING IN MY LIFE, ALWAYS, BEFORE ALL OF THIS! I DIDN’T NEED THIS LESSON!THIS LESSON IS FUCKING BULLSHIT!”

If this would have been a year ago, I would have screamed all of those things and then jumped off the side of the cliff. See, I am growing! Gold star for me! That would have been my anger taking over today. I controlled it. I will work on my grateful list a little more, for you.

Kassie’s list was great. She is a good girl who is grateful for everything and just wants to help make this world a better place. I was grateful for her list.

The man left after he decided that we might be insane, due to our snarkiness about how kids dying from cancer, is not the way to learn a life lesson. No thanks, buddy. We would rather have learned it another way. But thanks for playing with us. I’m sorry your puppy died. Bye-Bye. He left. We watched. The lightning danced around us. “Where is the moon”? Kassie asked. “That’s weird. It’s not out tonight. Why is it so light out? It’s 8:00.” I said. We couldn’t figure it out. The clouds started to roll in. “Look. Those clouds came out of nowhere. It’s not supposed to storm tonight.” I said. We watched some more. The wind started whipping around us. “Crap! Kassie said. “I think we are trapped in a Haboob!”  I just laughed. “We totally are! Ronan is so pissed he didn’t get to start kindergarten today!” We sat at the top of our RoChurch tonight for a good 45 minutes and let the storm whip around us. No rain. Just a lot of dust and wind. We laughed. I might have cried for a second. I waited for it to calm down, so we could get off of the mountain. After the wind had settled, we got up and headed down. It was so bright, without the moon, that we didn’t need a light. So strange. We made it down the mountain and that’s when it happened. Only you could do this, for me. The second my foot touched the exact spot of where I have one of my favorite pictures in the world of you, a rain drop kissed my lip. “Kass! Did you feel that? It’s raining! It’s raining and I have this picture or Ronan, right here, in this very spot.” We both stopped and waited. It took a minute for her to feel it. But then, big, huge tears fell from the sky. But only right where we were standing. “That is so Ronan,” I said. “He always does this for me, when I need it the most.” We extended out our arms and let the big, sloppy wet tears fall on our faces. I smiled. “He’s the best.” We stayed for a few minutes and enjoyed the rest of your little storm. A sign from you that I very much needed today. Thank you, baby doll.

I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. I will try to do something dangerous for our danger day tomorrow. Fuck you 16 months.

xoxo

Cancer is a whore. My friend, Robyn, told me so.

 

Ronan. I am tired. Living this life without you is exhausting. I hardly remember the days when I used to think you wore me out due to your never-ending energy. I used to think taking care of you was a lot of work. Well, let me assure you, taking care of a dead child is 100 times more exhausting. It is 100 times more exhausting than the temper tantrums, throwing up, crying, teaching, arguing, potty training, bathing, feeding, reading, singing, playing, snotty noses, laughing, loving, and all the other beautiful things that come with raising a child. Taking care of a dead child is 24 hours of pure and non-stop torture that on days like today, leaves me feeling more exhausted than running a fucking marathon.

We are still in Washington. I do well here. It’s no secret. My heart is not in AZ. I won’t live there forever. There will come a day when I will leave. Your daddy knows this. He is on board with this. He will go wherever we decide to go, as a family. I’ve already thrown out a few places as options. It’s a decision we have both made. My heart does not belong in that state. It never has. I have only a couple of things keeping me there, as of now. But those couple of things mean too much to me to leave. As long as they are there, I will stay there. I’m not saying what or who they are, but I know you know. Because you’ve always known. Right now, we are there because it is where we need to be. Because right now it is what is best for Liam and Quinn. I can put myself aside for the sake of the two of them for the time being. I can sacrifice myself for those boys’ no questions asked. But Phoenix leaves me feeling restless and chaotic. The only peace I get is when I am hiking up a mountain in 110 degree weather. That tells me right there, that there is a problem. I know what my main problem is… that being not having you anymore. But Phoenix only seems to add fuel to the fire. I can make due for now. I can be thankful that we have your Nana’s house to come to so that I can have a little peace and quiet. I can be thankful for things like rainy summer days, scratches from sticker bushes, muddy feet from exploring the never-ending rivers/streams/ponds that surround us… I can be thankful that your brothers have this place to come to, to experience childhood the way it should be. Simple, calm, and beautiful. You don’t get much more beautiful than this state. I have always thought so. It makes the 8 months of rain, totally worth it. But I am also a big fan of the rain so I may be biased. I am an even bigger fan now because I feel like my body and soul are in a constant state of rain due to all of my tears. It’s nice to not wake up to the blinding freaking sun every single day. The mornings here are damp and foggy. The air is clean. The sun comes out just in time to kiss my lips for a few hours and then it goes back to sleep. My heaven.

I’ve been doing a lot of playing with your brothers. So much playing that we are all 3 falling into bed and we hardly have the energy to say goodnight to one another and you, before it’s lights out. That never happens in AZ. It’s been a constant stream of baseball, board games, swinging, basketball, and Papa time. That Papa time is my favorite time of all. Your papa and I took Liam and Quinn to Mount St. Helen’s yesterday. The world that I watch Liam and Quinn slip into around him is magical. It’s one of my favorite places to be. The laugher and adventures are endless. He is the youngest 72-year-old that I have ever known. It’s like I’m watching 3 kids play whenever I am with him. He was one of your best friends and vise versa. He misses you so much. Yesterday, when we stopped to explore a little bit, we were throwing some rocks into the water. There were a ton of sticks and wood pieces floating around. The kind that you used to make your papa load the back of his truck up with. “More papa, more!” you used to yell to him. We would always bring home 10-20 pieces of wood and sticks for you. Your papa found a really good one yesterday and said, “I’d better get this one, for Ronie.” “Ronie, Ronie, Macaroni!” he would often sing to you. I just looked at him and said thank you. What I really meant was thank you for being the best step-dad ever. For being the best papa ever. For being the best friend to my 3 boys. For never forgetting you, Ronie, and for never being afraid to talk about you, sometimes like you are still here. I know how hard this has been for him. He loves you so much. He would have traded places with you, in a heartbeat. I know he is constantly asking himself why you and not him. We all are baby boy; we all are.

I think about you all the time. I told your Sparkly that I swore I think about you, 24 hours a day. He said he knew. I know he knows this because he thinks of you everyday too. He misses you. I have been thinking about a lot of things lately, trying to give myself some peace of mind which won’t ever happen, but I need just a sliver of it, to get me through this. For me to say that I 100% know where you are, who you are with, and what you are doing is something I am not willing to eat up on a plate of bullshit. Hello! Am I the only crazy one out there, who will admit this?!! NOBODY REALLY KNOWS where you are, Ro baby. WTF! I can fully respect what people believe… but I am so tired of hearing, “Oh, hello… I am 100% sure of where Ronan is. He is safe and happy and he is where he should be. ” Fuck off people. That is not the right way to approach me. Why don’t you just be honest and say, “Oh, hello… I don’t 100% know where Ronan is, but this is what I believe.” Thank you. I can deal with the “I believe part.” I don’t have a problem with the “I believe part.” I won’t even tell you to fuck off. I will politely smile and tell you thank you, instead. I just want some freaking honesty. Is that too much to ask? I don’t think so. Unless you are officially hanging out in heaven, with Ronan, dancing on clouds and then you get to come back here and tell me about it, and put it on a DVD for me to watch…. I am not going to 100% be sure of anything. That’s honest. That’s real. It fucking sucks but I am not willing to sugar coat the life and death of my child just because it makes other people comfortable.

I know what I think I believe. I know what I think I don’t believe. I know that I am still learning and growing, but no matter how angry I get, I still have a shred of faith that I hold on to. It’s dear to me no matter how different or how out of the norm it is. I don’t like normal. I grew up with a dad who used to mediate on top of compost piles. Is that weird? Maybe to some. It wasn’t weird to me. It was his way of teaching me to love nature and the world around us, but mostly to connect to ourselves, our hearts and our spirituality. I know that my beliefs are ever-changing and ever-growing. What I believe today, may not be the same, tomorrow. I find that fascinating and it makes me proud that I have the strength to question everything out there when I could easily just believe in it all, instead. If I want to question if the sky is blue and the grass is green, that is my business. Nobody has the right to try to take that away from me. Not even God himself.

I found a picture of you today, Ronie. I don’t know if I’ve ever called you, Ronie, on here, P.S. Which is weird… because I used to call you that all of the time. Anyway, it was your preschool picture. The one where I can vividly recall the day so well which is unusual for me due to not having much of a memory anymore. You are so beautiful. I put you in one of your favorite orange shirts. Your hair almost matched it in the picture as the color of your hair was so unusual. A copper color almost. Blonder in the summer, but copper was the true color of that mop of hair of yours. I stared at that picture for a long time, before tears sprang to my eyes. I sent a couple of text messages to Dr. JoRo and to my new friend, Robyn. I haven’t really talked about Robyn yet because it just hasn’t been the right time. It’s only been within the last few weeks that we have started to get to know each other. Even though we have more in common than I would like. We both have dead babies thanks to that fuckwad, Neuroblastoma. We met at the NB conference in Austin, Texas. We went out afterwords as a group and I quietly sat back and watched this girl who continued to crack up the entire table with her witty comebacks, smart mouth and silent gun shooting laughter (because she says no sound comes out when she laughs so she shoots guns with her hands instead) Ummmm… who is this girl and can I please be her friend? I got to know her story a bit. I later learned that she not only has one dead child, but two as she had twins after her son, Ezra, and one of them, Price, died due to complications from a very early delivery. It took me a while to wrap my head around this. Wait, two dead babies? Her? Not possible. Not this drop dead gorgeous, funny, young thing sitting right in front of me. Not this gorgeous creature who looks like she is about 19, but has the pain in her eyes of someone who is 3 times her age. But she looks happy. And she can laugh and be carefree and funny! All of the voices in my head were saying, “Whoa. What’s wrong with you? This girl is alright. This girl can function in the normal world. And she has 2 dead babies! Why can’t you?” I left Texas being totally intrigued by this Little Miss Robyn thing. Our friendship has now developed over a series of Instagram/Twitter/Facebook/Texting love. I told her that it had to be the two of you, you and Ezra, who are the one’s making our friendship blossom. Because you know we can help each other, through this. I truly think this is the case. Now that I’ve gotten to know Robyn a little better, I can see that she still hurts so badly from losing her babies. That I know she thinks about them as much as I do you. That will never change. Things will never be alright or better. They are just different. And somedays, different can be o.k. and you can still smile and laugh, but the pain never fades away. As she puts it, it moves from your skin to your bones. It never goes away. I sent Robyn that text below tonight. She called cancer, a whore! I told you we were meant to be friends!

I think we are going to make a good team, me, you, your daddy, Robyn, Ezra and her husband, Kyle. I kind of think that Neuroblastoma, doesn’t really stand a chance. I am sorry that any of us have to know this life. I wish it wasn’t this way. Robyn says to tell you, “Hey,” though. Thank both you and Ezra, for helping us find each other. Please be sure to get into some trouble together. I’ll bet you are the best of friends.

I’m ending this novel here tonight, Ro baby. Much to say still but my eyes are red, blurry and sleepy. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. I am always so sorry. Sweet dreams, baby boy. And of course it is now pouring down rain with a side of extra angry, thunder and lightening. Thank you. I hate being apart from you, just as much as you do.

xoxo

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13 months without you and 9 years with Liam and Quinn

 

 

Ronan. Turns out, I don’t do so well, in Coronado. I don’t think I did so well here last year, and I don’t think I’m doing so well here, this year either. It just dawned on me, a few days ago as to why. It dawned on me, while I had been sitting in bed for the entire day, watching one certain video of you, over and over again. The video is of you, when you were maybe almost two. I shot it right out in front of the beach that we have been playing at every single day, since getting here. It might just be one of my most favorite videos I have of you. Where you are sitting in the sand, you take a handful of it, shove it in your mouth and eat it. I yelled to you, “Ewwww, Ronan!!! Don’t eat the sand!” You looked me dead in the eye, and shoved some more sand in your mouth and ate it, again. I love that you ate the sand. I love so much, that you ate the sand, again, even when I told you not to. I cannot come back to Coronado again, next year. I cannot keep coming to the same place, that we used to take you every year, without you. Not having you here, and trying to make all these new memories in the very same spot I spent so much time with you, is not happening. It’s making me sick to my stomach. I keep looking for you in the pool that I used to watch you swim in, the beach that we used to run on, the grass we used to play in, and you are just not here. This is the last summer that we will come here. I cannot do this again.

I have been taking your brothers across the street every day to play basketball. And I’m not the kind of mom, who just sits on the bench and watches them play. I’ve been playing with them. Engaging, encouraging, running, and jumping with them. Doing it all when it takes everything I have, to do all of this. I was doing fine, until a mom came into the empty gym with her 3 boys. An older boy who was about your brothers age and twin boys who looked to be about 3. I was doing fine, until this mom started playing with her 3 boys too. I looked over at them, laughing and shooting the basketball. I tried my best to ignore them. I was getting ready to make a sweet lay-up, and all of a sudden, I felt like I no longer had the attention of your brothers as I could feel their eyes, elsewhere. I stopped what I was doing to see why it was that nobody was guarding me or trying to block my shot. My eyes fell over to Liam and Quinn. They both looked like they were in a trance and were stopped dead in their tracks, watching this mom and her 3 boys. I did my, “Hey, you guys! I’m going to score on you!” But they both didn’t budge an inch. They were totally engrossed in this mom and her 3 sons. I wanted so slit my wrists, right then and there. I tried to throw my basketball so hard into the backboard, that is shattered the glass, everywhere. That plan didn’t work. That glass is pretty resistant. You know what isn’t resistant? The palpable pain in your brothers eyes. The way I swear I could see your reflection, in their eyes due to the way they both miss you, so much. I did my best to distract the situation at hand and it took everything I had not to just stop and scream at the top of my lungs, ” HEY! LIAM AND QUINN! STOP STARING AT THAT MOM AND HER 3 BOYS! JUST STOP! I KNOW THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN US! I KNOW I PROMISED YOU THAT RONAN WOULDN’T DIE! I KNOW RONAN WAS OUR ENTIRE WORLD! I KNOW HOW MUCH YOU MISS HIM! I AM SO SORRY FOR EVERYTHING! I AM SO SORRY NOTHING WILL EVER BE THE SAME! I AM SO SORRY WE ARE ALL SO SAD AND WE HAVE TO LIVE WITHOUT HIM! BUT PLEASE, STOP STARING AT WHAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN AND WHAT WILL NEVER BE AGAIN! PLEASE! IT’S KILLING ME!” I didn’t yell that. I gathered your brothers up instead and we left the gym. We came home, I fed them lunch, and then they went off to play with your cousins at the beach. I stayed behind and sunk into bed for the rest of the day. I think I’ve been in bed, off and on, for days now. I’ve been going for some runs, here and there. I’ve been surfing a little. I’ve been crying a lot. Quinn asked why I’ve been sleeping so much. I’ve been sleeping a lot more than normal. I guess not as much sleeping, but more laying in bed, crying. I woke up crying this morning. Your daddy wanted to know what was wrong. I told him the same as always, but today my sadness seemed extra heavy. It wasn’t until half way through the day, that I realized that today is the 9th. 13 months now, since you’ve been gone.

Today, is your brothers 9th birthday. I cannot even believe, it’s been 9 years since I had them. They have grown up so fast, in the best and worst way possible. The best being that up until losing you, they had the best life possible. Since losing you, they have had to grow up in a way that one should never have to grow up. They are more insightful, compassionate, and wise beyond their years due to watching their little brother get cancer, and then die from it. I would not wish their wise beyond their years ways, on anybody. We all did the best we could do today. It was actually an o.k. day and your brothers seemed to have a great birthday. Thankfully, they have your cousins here to take away some of the sadness. They spent the day playing basketball, video games, swimming, and now they are all tucked in having a sleepover and watching a movie. We all dropped your daddy off at the airport tonight as he had to go back to Phoenix. It’s always extra sad when he goes. He won’t be back until next week so I’ll have to figure out a way, to find my pretend happiness while he is away. I cannot just lay in bed, crying all day as your daddy is not here to take your brothers off and away so they don’t see that. Thankfully, your New York Miss Macy is coming in on Thursday for a few days. I can be guaranteed some happiness on the days that she is here. She is the sunshine in my life that always makes everything better. The days are less gloomy when she is here. A true gift from you indeed.

This is all I can write tonight. I’m tired from the day. Happy Birthday to your brothers. I am so lucky to be their mama. They are the best things that I have left in my life, besides your daddy. I love you. I miss you. I wish you could have been with us tonight. I tried not to cry as I watched them blow out their candles. Everything they do, is a reminder to me, of what you are not here to do. I’m sorry, baby boy. I hope you are safe.

xoxo

A tutu, mustache wearing, dance party, hike with a little badass Bee

Ronan. I cooked the eggies this morning. And the sausage. And bacon. Fruit. I had croissants that Rita gave me last night, but I forgot to take them out of your daddy’s car. They were the kind that are frozen and you leave them out over night, to rise. Your daddy called me this afternoon. “Did Rita give you croissants or something last night?” “Yeah! I can’t find them!” I said. “They are in the back of my car. They are rising as we speak. I’ll run them home for you.”

I chuckled. Grief brain. What an asshole it is. I cooked them anyway for your brothers. They were an awesome afternoon snack for them. I felt like a good mom for not burning them. I played baseball with your brothers, too. I tried really hard to be a good mom today. I’m exhausted from it all. It was a long day of missing you.

I ran around and got some things done this morning. I met up with Mandy Bee. She has been gone a lot so I have not seen much of her. I miss her and the ability she has to make me forget about all this pain for a bit. Even if it’s only for a few hours. I told her I had to get my hike in for the day. She offered to come, even though she had already done some crazy work out early in the morning. I told her I would love for her to come with me. We both decided that we needed to hike in our tutu’s today. We ran to her house and got hers and then met back up at our house. We drove to the mountain and went on probably one of the best hikes I’ve had since you’ve been gone. We bolted up the mountain for 90 minutes of pure craziness. We went on a different trail with music from her iPhone blaring, and we full on had a dance party the whole way to the top. I laughed. I wore my mustache sunglasses. I didn’t cry hiking that mountain today with Mandy Bee. I got lost in the world that she creates for me which is either really, really sad when I need it to be. Or else it is really, really happy. In the craziest way possible. We looked like we were nuts today. It felt good to look nuts and not in the way that I normally look hiking that mountain with red eyes and black mascara running down my face. The break from that was much needed, especially after last nights heavy-hearted hike. I know I desperately need more days like today where I am able to laugh and let go. They don’t come very often but when they do…. watch out. They make me feel like I am on top of the world with you right by my side, holding my hand. My best days always remind me of you.

I did not decide on our trip today. I am procrastinating in a big way.  I deserved today. I just could not deal with the pressure of making any big decisions about fucking May. Maybe tomorrow.

Short post tonight, baby doll. The little sleep I had last night is hitting me. I miss you. I love you. I hope you are safe. G’nite. Sweet dreams

xoxo

Scrambled Eggies and a Fucking AIMS Test

 

 

Ronan. The weekend is over. I guess it was busy. It’s late now but I actually just got home. This weekend went a little something like this… A baseball game. Dropped your brothers off for a sleep over at a friends. Your daddy looks at me as to say now what? Because another date night of me staring across a table at him, sobbing so hard that I cannot eat and I will blow my fucking brains out. Luckily, we had made some kind of sort of let’s do something with Danielle and Dave, plans. We went to dinner. We caught up. We went bowling. I may have sucked really bad the first game. I may have gotten the high score the second game and redeemed myself. I may have smiled. I still felt sad, but it’s good to be with friends like Danielle and Dave. They are easy. They both love you. Sunday, your daddy went into the office. I picked up your brothers. We all then went to this place called Mike’s Big Breakfast for lunch. Oh, how you would have loved it. This was all I could think of the entire time we were there. I think Liam ate 10 pieces of bacon. And pancakes. We sat at the bar. Everyone smiled at us. It felt weird to me. I wanted to scream out, “Hey! No smiling allowed! We are not the happy family that we may look like! Don’t you know our Ronan is missing? Don’t you know our Ronan is gone? I just want him back! Why isn’t anyone bringing him back?!! But this food is really fucking good.” And I don’t even really like food anymore, so that’s saying a lot. Unless it comes in the form of Airhead Extremes Candy. Or Coke. I will love those two things, forever. Your brothers went over to a friends’ house later Sunday for another play date. It’s good for them and helps out over here so much. I can use the break and so can your daddy from the constant parenting that we are always doing. Parenting that is so exhausting when you are constantly dealing with this pain and grief. Your daddy asked what I wanted to do. It was so sunshiny and nice out. Shiny mother fucking people everywhere. Put me in a dark room please and let’s watch “The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo.” That’s what we did. I had already seen it. Your daddy had not and I knew it was right up his alley. It was while watching this movie, that I found out about our little friend, Jaiel. The 16-year-old girl that I had told Rita about around a month or two ago, who was fighting Neuroblastoma. The girl that was the reason that we decided to go to the anti bullying press conference that Nicole Stanton had because Jai had posted something about how it was nice to know that people who you thought were your friends, really were not because they were all just waiting for you to die. Her post ripped my heart out. She is 16 and she is dealing with real life in the most horrific way. She does not have normal you are so fucking lucky to only have a boyfriend breaking up with you problem, to cry about. This girl was fighting for her life. Something that  so many people, take for granted.

Somebody posted something on Facebook saying she had passed away yesterday. Impossible, I thought to myself. I had just been messaging back and forth with her a week or so ago. She had just had another surgery, so she could continue to fight. I thought she was doing o.k. I should have known better. Because I know first hand, how evil and unpredictable this disease can be. I sat in my bed, in shock. Your brothers came home soon after that. I had to keep it together for the sake of them. Your daddy asked if I wanted to play outside with them. “No,” I quietly said. I would not. I played catch out in the parking lot today of Matt’s Big Breakfast. That’s enough for today. That’s all I can do, for today. Unless Ronan is there too. Then I would like to play. You were not. So I left. I went for a very dangerous, night hike instead. But before my little hike, this is what I did. I parked. I sat in the car and sobbed. I sobbed for Jai. I remember thinking to myself poor Jai. And her parents. I cannot imagine what they are feeling. I cannot imagine what it feels like, to be them. Then I had visions of your little face, your little voice, your little lips and how lucky I was to be able to have all of those things. But then I remembered that you are dead. I had forgotten. My head started spinning and I thought I am never going to see him, again. At least not in this life. How is that even possible? How can this even be real? I bolted out of my car. Luckily, I had decided to wear my FUCK YOU YOU FUCKING FUCK tee-shirt while hiking up the mountain today. I do not think my fellow hikers appreciated it very much. The amount of dirty looks I got was actually quite humorous. Quite a few people gave me dirty looks. I gave them dirty looks back while the black tears poured down my cheeks. I’m pretty sure I looked mad. Like in a Mom’s Gone Mad sort of way. I’m pretty sure I didn’t really fucking care today. I am glad nobody said anything out loud to me because I might have punched them. Maybe not punched, because I don’t do physical violence, but I totally would have assaulted them with my middle finger instead.

I came home and your daddy just looked at me. I had snuck out of the house without him seeing what tee-shirt I was wearing. Score 1 for secret operation ninja Maya plan. Score 0 for OH MY GOD NO YOU DID NOT WEAR THAT Woody. I did. And I’m not sorry. Cancer can be sorry, for killing my child. And this is how I feel about cancer, so I’m wearing it. Plus Jai died. And all of these babes are dying, so yeah, fuckyouyoufuckingfuck, was appropriate. I don’t care who says otherwise.

This is what Quinn said to me about 10 times today. “Mom. We have an AIMS test tomorrow. Can you cook us a really good breakfast??”

“Ummm…. of course I can, Quinny.I will cook it and you will do awesome on your test.”

He asked me this, about 5 more times tonight.

I thought to myself, don’t I always cook a good breakfast before school? Then I remembered that no. No I do not. I used to. I used to ALWAYS cook a good breakfast for all of you. Your eggies. Your scrambled eggies. Bacon. Sasauge. The works. I would feed you all, scoop you up in your P.J.’s and throw you in the car. We would drop your brothers off at school and come back home to play for the rest of the day. Now eggies only really happen, on the weekends. During the week, it’s every man for himself here is some cereal and shove some yogurt down your throat if we have time. Eggies pretty much kill me, without having you to feed them too. Tomorrow, I will cook eggies on about the 4 hours of sleep I am going to get tonight. Tomorrow, I will get up extra early to cook the eggies without you. I already hate tomorrow.

This is the other conversation that has gone on for months now. May. May consists of telling your daddy, I think we need to go away.  I do not think it would be a good idea for us to be here, in May. Your daddy wants to know, where I want to go. China. Thailand. Vietnam. Australia. I think it may be a little late for those places. I don’t think I can plan a trip like that. I cannot make a decision to save my life. Why can’t I plan a freaking trip? What is wrong with me? This is easy! Turns out, it’s not so easy. I think I am having major mental block out May issues. If you block out May, it won’t come. It’s coming. I cannot be in Arizona for it. East Coast. I think it’s going to be an East Coast trip. I told your daddy this tonight. Maine? Boston? All of it? “Whatever you want,” was his reply. Just please plan it. Fuck. A plan? How can I plan this let’s get the fuck out of here, because Ronan’s 1 year of everything is coming up??? Because if I do not, I know what will happen. And it is not good.

I tucked your sweet brothers in tonight and sent Rita a text. “Hey. Do you have HBO? I do not. And “Girls,” is premiring on HBO.” It’s our fairy RoMo’s good friends show. I don’t watch T.V. but I did tonight due to Rita’s response  that she did indeed have HBO and she lives close by. We sat and watched, laughed, and LOVED it. I stayed over there late. We talked about May. She has been trying to help me make a decision for weeks now. I’ve been ignoring her. I thought she was going to fly off the couch with happiness when I said, “I’m thinking East Coast…” She seemed to think that was great idea. Maybe tomorrow will be the day that I can make your daddy proud, by figuring this shit out. Maybe tomorrow is already here and it looks bleak. We shall see.

Eggies to cook in the morning, Ro. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. Sweet dreams, baby doll.

xoxo

Maya decides not to die.

Ronan. I saw your Dr. JoRo today. It’s been way too long. It was a catch up session and a pow wow session combined. She wanted to know what’s been going on, if I’ve had quiet time, how I’m feeling, etc….. I told her today that I think I have decided that I’m not going to kill myself. She hardly flinched when I told her this as I think she already knows this. I guess I’ve known this for a while too….. but sometimes I think it would be nice to take the easy way out, so I wouldn’t have to deal with any of this pain. I get tired of it. But then I think of your face and how unfair that would be to you…. not to mention your daddy and brothers. And Dr. JoRo and Sparkly. And a whole lot of other people who love me. I could never be so selfish to actually do something like that. But I do think about it. Not a lot, but it does comes up. I’ll bet you it comes up with any parent who has lost a child. I’ll bet it is just part of this process. It almost seems natural due to being left here, expected to survive such extreme circumstances while everyone else goes on with their day-to-day lives. I won’t ever be able to go back to the day-to-day normal life that existed before all of this. Every single thing I do involves thinking about you, missing you, and hurting for you. Whether it be folding the laundry or how I am plotting to take over this world with my evil plans that often involve the fuck word that I love so much and seems to offend so many people. Bahahahahaha!!! That was my best, evil laugh. Fucking fuck little dude. People are sick and want to see me fail. I fully get that. It’s just the way this world works. I don’t have much to say to that because it’s not really worth my words. I just feel sorry for them and the things in life that they choose to HIDE behind. What a pitiful life. All I’m trying to do here is spread the RoLove and maybe help save some cancer babes lives while I’m at it. But I understand how that could seem so evil as I am not doing this the traditional route. I’m choosing to do this my way or the highway and anybody who has a problem with that can SUCK IT MOTHER FUCKERS!!!!!!!! Traditional is not my style when it comes to, “Oh, I’m sorry, but my son died of cancer so let’s just sit back and be nice about it while I shut the fuck up and don’t be vocal about it so things don’t ever change.” Gag me.

People are scared of different. They would rather sit back and judge and hide instead. Uhhhh…… hate to break it to ya, but nobody normal, ever really changed the world. It’s always the rule breakers, the outside of the box thinkers, the passionate ones, the one’s who don’t take NO for an answer, the one’s who FIGHT back not slink away, the “crazy,” ones. It’s not the let’s play it safe guys and do everything the same exact way, that everyone else is doing, or let’s just not do anything at all. That won’t change a thing. I’m not here to follow anyone’s else’s lead, unless you are a rule breaker too, then we can talk. I’m here to listen. I’m here to be inspired. I’m here to watch the way some other very inspiring people are doing things differently in life. I’m here to grab onto the hands of the people who are willing to do things differently as well. It will take an army to change things, I know this which is why I am sitting back and quietly observing a lot. It’s as if I’m seeing a whole new world of people out there. They are so beautiful that it’s blinding. In a good way. It’s feels so good to be blinded by the sparkling lights of the human soul.

Do you wanna know one of the sparkling lights that I am blinded by every single day? So much so that she is in my daily thoughts because I love her that much. My Dr. JoRo. In my dream of all dreams, and I have many, she is in each one of them. I would walk through fire for her. If money were no object, I would give childhood cancer funding and her MISS Foundation, everything I had. The fact that she has to work so hard, for the funding she gets, which is not a lot for all she does, is such bullshit. Everyone should be supporting her. She is saving the lives of all these parents in the world who are just tossed out into the streets, so scared and vulnerable. She is fighting the good fight and how in the world isn’t EVERYBODY supporting her? She is not doing this to make money or line her pockets like so many other organizations out there. Ummm, hello…. Dr. JoRo does not even take a salary from the MISS Foundation. She is THAT kind of a human being. She is an anomaly in this world. She could give a flying fuck about making money for herself. She wants to help others and that’s it. There is no hidden agenda. What you see is what you get and what you get. And what you get is one of the SMARTEST, KINDEST, PASSIONATE and BADASS souls that I swear to you Ro, has ever existed. She is my Gandhi. I need you to watch over her. I need her to be here with me for a very long time because we have a lot of work to do, together. I know Chey is watching over everything she does so she really is in the best hands possible; but I know you are helping out now too. I know you are the one who led me to her. Yes, I got your little sign. The JoRo sign. It’s not a coincidence that her middle name is ROse, baby. I know that. Thank you.

I not only go into Dr. JoRo’s office to talk about death, grief and all things painful. We also talk a lot about life things, which was probably one of her biggest clues that I had decided not to off myself. I guess when you are talking about the future, it means you are less likely to kill yourself. At least in my case. I’m not the grief expert or anything, but this would seem to make sense. Today, I went in there and we discussed an email I had shared with her that I had written out. Today, I went in there with “I have an idea. A really, really big idea….” I have a lot of these ideas in my head that I am so excited about, I want to scream them from the rooftops and go jumping right in, but I understand it is easier said then done. In my mind, everyone should just hear my ideas and say, “Yes! You are a genius! Here is your 100 million dollars! Let’s start saving all these cancer babes!” Dr. JoRo quickly brought me back to reality in the most tender, caring way. By saying, “I absolutely think you can get this done, but let’s cross off X,Y, and Z to get there first and I will help you. This has to be a really well, thought out plan. So, let’s sit down with this dream of yours and figure out what it is we need to do, to make it happen.”

I like a plan. A plan says your serious. And I am serious in the most serious way possible; with everything I have. With everything that is you. But I understand there has to be logic, rules and structure in place as well. I can play by the rules with some things, but I will keep it extra spicy for you too of course just to put your little spin on things. Lots of big dreams all inspired by you and all the other kids and families we’ve been touched by. Cancer peeps and non cancer peeps. It’s amazing to see the movement you are creating.

There is no dream that is big enough for you, Ronan. I promise you that. I promise you, we will get this done. This is what you want. I know it. I love you. I miss you. I hope you are safe. I’m going to try to get some sleep. My new motto is, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” I said this to your favorite lovie the other night. He didn’t laugh. He didn’t like it. He thinks I need my sleep. I will try to listen to that voice of reason of his that seems to be the one I listen to. And yours. Although, I feel like yours is always pushing me not to listen and to break the rules. You are so spicy. G’nite baby doll. I love you to the moon and back. G’nite little RoFriends. You are the best for believing in us and for letting Ro make you better people. I love you.

xoxo

6 Mother Fucking Months? Fuck you, ASSHOLE CANCER

Ro baby. 6 months. Soon. 3:22 a.m. tomorrow. In just 5 and a half hours. No. NO.NO. But yes. Because as I said tonight, as I was leaving Dr. JoRo’s, I’m being punished for something I did in a past life or something? I must have done something really, really, awful to deserve this pain, yes? That’s the only thing I can think of, that makes sense. What would I have done that would have been so horrific, that I deserved to lose you? Murdered 10,000 babies? Did I blow up an entire city? It must have been something huge, for this to happen. WTF? But it doesn’t make sense. Because I don’t really have a mean bone in my body. Except if you piss me off. Then I will punch you. But I really won’t. I don’t think I’ve ever punched a person in my life, but I think it sounds cool, so I like to say it.

What has been going on, little man? I don’t know. I don’t even know the last time I’ve written. It feels like weeks ago. The Fashion Show is Thursday. THE FASHION SHOW IS THURSDAY! I’m not sure if I’m excited. I don’t really know the feeling of excitement anymore. Am I proud? Yes. I guess. What does that, even really mean? Am I proud that I have not slit my wrists or run off to China, solo? Sure. I guess. Whatever. And I thankful? Some days. I am thankful for all the amazing people, surrounding me. Helping with this. Supporting us. Loving you. Everyday. Everyday, Ro. Because they are the people, in this world, who get it. For as much as they don’t, they do. But, I’m not thankful because you are dead. And I just want you back. But I can’t have you back, so I will surround myself with the people who won’t let me fall. Or, who will let me fall but who will be there to just rub my back and let me cry while I carry around my dead child’s blanket and bury my face in it to cry like I did tonight at the Garage. And Katie didn’t need to say anything. She just let me be. She just let me bury my head and cry while she stood by and rubbed my back. And that was enough. After that, we went out for a quick bite to eat. With her darling store employee, Christy, and Denise who flew in from San Francisco to help with the fashion show. To support us. Because she loves us and believes in you. We went to dinner and I made the girls laugh. Do you know, that never happens anymore, Ro? And you know how secretly funny I am. You know that it is only when I am truly comfortable that I am able to let me funny side, come out. We were talking about the perception of me now. I guess because I throw the fuck word out a lot on here, people expect when they meet me, that I am some tough-ass, rocking out, loud, center of attention, chick. And then when they meet me, they are thrown off because I’m actually pretty shy and quiet. I told Katie and the girls tonight that when I meet someone for the first time, that reads this blog that instead of saying, “Hi, I’m Maya. Nice to meet you.” That I should really say, ” Hi, I’m Maya. Nice to FUCKING MEET YOU!” The whole table laughed at that tonight and it was a nice way to end a hard day and night, by making some of the sweetest girls alive, laugh. Because for that split second I didn’t feel like Maya Thompson, whose son just died of cancer. For that split second I felt like Maya Thompson, the girl who has a great life with 3 healthy boys, and who is funny as shit. But only if she let’s her guard down with you. I loved that split second of feeling normal, Ro. I miss it a lot some days. Most days. All days.

I think I have been running around like mad. I’m pretty sure, after this event, I am going to crash and burn. For a lot of reasons. I’m pretty sure, Katie, deserves to go on an exotic vacation for a good 2 weeks and does not need to answer her phone or emails while I send her on this pretend vacation. If I had a magic wand, I would bring you back and send Katie somewhere amazing. And we would go with her and play in the sand and help you make Star Wars castles. I’m pretty sure, you would love all of this. I’m pretty sure, most of the people who are alive and who have kids who are alive and who can easily do this, don’t. Or if they do, they don’t know how lucky they truly are. And I hope if they read this and the next time they get to do this, that they think of you, and do realize how lucky they are. Because having a healthy family is really what it’s all about. It’s all that matters, really. I knew this. We all knew this which is why this really seems like a sick joke. Maybe if I had been a bad mom this wouldn’t hurt so much? Do you think that’s the case, Ro? Do you think if I had been a really, really, bad mom who drank and did lots of drugs and who didn’t take care of her kids that I wouldn’t be hurting so much? Do you think because I took such good care of you and loved you and your brothers so much, that the pain couldn’t possibly get any worse? I kind of do. I’ve told you this before. It’s like I’m being punished because I loved you too much. And you loved me so much that the world was scared of it or something? Or maybe it was because your eyes were too blue and mine are too green? Who the fuck knows. And I don’t know if I’ll ever know so I’ll just end this little paragraph with a poem that our Dr. JoRo sent me. Here you go, little bug.

“Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer.”
― Rainer Maria Rilke

I saw Dr. JoRo tonight. Do you want to know her scale for figuring out how I am doing on a daily basis is, Ro? She asks me now, “So, is it a shitty day, a fucking shitty day, or a mother-fucking shitty day?” Today, I told her it was a mother-fucking fucking shitty day and I had a hit list with 3 people on it. She goes, “Oh, that’s a new one!” We then sat for the next few hours and went over what’s been going on. I guess a lot. I sat there and stared at you on the obituary she has of you, displayed in her office. Your big, blue eyes just stared at me. I told Dr. JoRo that this is so fucking unfathomable to me, that I felt like you were somebody else’s child, staring at back at me from your picture. You, that sweet gorgeous dead child, couldn’t possibly have been mine. No way. Nope. Never. Not happening. I am not the one in the room, talking to Dr. JoRo because that gorgeous creature of mine, staring at me with eyes that I used to get lost in, is fucking dead of cancer. Almost 6 months ago. Dr. JoRo said I looked tired. I told her, always. Which is why I was wearing my purple glasses tonight. To hide the dark circles under my eyes. Along with the red eyes, the tear filled eyes, the puffy eyes. Those purple glasses, can hide a lot.

I left Dr. JoRo to head back to check in with Katie. I sat in the parking lot before I left Dr. JoRo to gather my thoughts, first though. Then I had a mad texting freak out session with our favorite lovie. I think I wrote things like how lame and stupid it was that people think that because you died, I will go on to do amazing things. Like this is my job and purpose now, because you are dead. And who is the asshole that decided you had to DIE, for me to do these things?? I said things like if you had survived, I would have done even more amazing things. I wouldn’t have just been a mom, whose kid got cancer, who lucked out, and they survived, and then they just went on with their lives. I would have fought and fought and fought even harder, until a cure was found. With you here, on this earth, fighting with me. I think went on to say that this world is full of stupid, ignorant, and INCONSIDERATE, people everywhere and the next time I ran into one, I was going to punch them. And then I said I was going to move to Iceland. Alone. Where I don’t have to deal with asshole people who give you fake smiles, like they care. I have a radar for fake smiles, you know. And no tolerance for them.

I ended up getting talked down off the ledge. As always. The one person in my life, that can do this for me. I know you know why, Ro. You always have. But than I asked for a question to be answered. Because you know, my questions are always never-ending. I wanted our lovie to tell me why you had to die, for me to go on and fight this fucking fight. Our lovie told me, there would never be an answer for your death because it shouldn’t have happened. I sighed. A tear slid down my cheek. I know this. But I still struggle with this question, everyday. You know what I wish? That I were a really, really, stupid, ignorant person, who didn’t think about questions. Who just accepted answers. How blissful would it be to live a dumb life, because you just didn’t know any other way? Surely, it would be less painful? Not to question everything. So many questions that you are constantly feeling like you are trying to climb walls that don’t exist, only to never get to the top, and the walls leave your fingers bloody, shredded, black and blue. Fucking Bullshit.

It’s 11:11. I stared at the clock and said over and over again, ” I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you are safe. I hope you know I love you. I hope you know I’m sorry. I hope you know I wish it were me. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am so sorry. I am so, so, sorry for not saving you. I’m so sorry, I broke my promise to you.

And now I have to go, Ro. Because 6 months ago, at this time, we were cuddling up together while you were leaving this world. And I was listening to the sound of you breathing, while the oxygen blew next to your face. While Fernanda sang you Twinkle Twinkle Little Star but she didn’t know the words, so she had to Google them. Thank Ro, for fucking Google. Not God. Always Ro.

I love you. I’m sorry. I miss you so much that it feels like 6 years that we have been apart, not 6 months. I hope you are safe my little not spicy, monkey boy. Sweet dreams, Ro baby.

xoxo