Sitting on the back porch, the house is quiet, the other two kids are sleeping and I’m imagining Riley sticking his head out the sliding glass door saying, “I’m going to Coffee Rush.” I’d say, “OK” and then I’d stare at him for what was next. He’d say, “Can I have some money?” and I’d say,”Really? You have no money?” and he’d say, “Well, I could use some money if you’d like to give me some.” And I’d say with a smirk on my face, “Yeah….”  I would walk in and grab some cash, give it to him and say “Here ya go. I love you. This is an advance for the yards being mowed later today, right? ” He’d look at me and say, “Of course. I’ll do the yards….. later. I love you too..Thanks Mom”

The farther we get out from the day he died, the more it sinks in this is real. Amazing how good I am at times at not believing that he is not coming back. I don’t let myself think about the fact that he won’t just appear in a room with his smile and sweet demeanor to make my day. Then out of the blue, it hits me. There is a sinking feeling that wells up from my soul, the tears come to my eyes, fall down my cheeks and it hurts bad . It stings like no other sting I have ever had. I breath deep, I keep moving. I have to keep moving. I am afraid if I stop, I won’t get back up.  I don’t want this to be real. I want my  baby boy back here with me. Grouchy like when his wisdom teeth got pulled. Calling me for more Kleenex when he had a cold. Me being able to ask for help on my computer and him rolling his eyes because I just didn’t get it and it’ was so simple to him.

I hate that tab that took Riley from me. I hate the chemist that dreamed it up. I hate the lab that produces it and markets it. The dealer that bought it online and sold it to him. A drug on a tab in his mind that was going to give him an experience worthy of a 18th birthday celebration. Couldn’t the birthday dinner, present and family being together been enough? Couldn’t a get together with his friends at the house have been enough? The hugs and kisses and all of which were coming his way in just a few hours. Why couldn’t that have been enough of a celebration? Why did he have to go and try a drug that night?

Riley lost his life because of drugs. One decision made by him had dire consequences. Consequences  that ended  coffee with friends, reading a good book, playing his music, and sharing his smiles with whoever crossed his path . I wish Riley could stick his head out the sliding glass door today. I want to see his face right there looking at me because he had made a different decision on May 3rd.

I think I will sit here a little longer and imagine the last time he did just that.

I love you, Riley.