Call me Grandma Reed

February 24, 2016 / djuanadreed / 3 Comments

IMG_0839a Grandmas are seasoned Mommies. They are squishy and soft. Grandmas know stuff. Grandmas overlook faults and see perfection. They have praises for our successes. They are a willing audience. Grandmas don’t need to say a word – we know their opinion by the look on their face. They bake yummy cookies and make the best meals. Grandmas have open arms and warm smiles at every visit. Grandmas give away hugs no matter how big you are. Grandmas have treasures and special toys at their house. Grandmas possess the tenderness of a mother sprinkled with love and laughter.

Unsuspectingly I answered a call from Braden and Hannah on Skype. I smiled at the sight of their faces on the computer screen while Braden said, “Hi Grandma”. I frowned and said, “Hey, I’m not that o..l..d….” I stopped. Hannah nodded at me with her big eyes. I looked at my son and I immediately began to cry. Braden’s eyes filled with tears as he watched my reaction. They were pregnant. It was wonderful news that filled me with joy. A baby was coming to bless our family. Yes, Braden, Call me Grandma.

As I sat in the hospital waiting room, anxious to hear the news that mother and baby were fine, I imagined Riley sitting there too. His handsome face framed with his blonde hair smiling that familiar smile of his while he looked back at me from across the room. He should have been there. He and his Dad would have surely been bantering back and forth across the room with humor as we waited. It gave me a teary grin to think of how Riley would be in that moment. He belonged there. His big brother being a Dad would have brought Riley joy. I can imagine the pride he would have had to be an Uncle. Riley would have enjoyed this event very much.

After a long wait, an eternity of time it felt like, Braden came through the doors with a big smile. She was here, mother and baby were doing fine and she had hair. I then heard her name over and over …Braylin Riley Peterson. Riley’s name was tucked in her name. She was perfect! She was 7 lbs 7 oz, the same weight as Riley at birth. The nurses wrapped her in a hospital blanket decorated with elephants. Riley’s favorite animal was an elephant. Sure enough, Uncle Riley was present as Braylin Riley made her debut into this world.

After holding her in my arms, I hurried back to the house to finish preparations for Hannah, Braden and baby to come home. Cleaning, shopping, trying to guess what need the three of them could have that I could be prepared to fill. At the end of a long day, I laid my head down and cried myself to sleep. I could not hold it in anymore.

The tears released an array of emotions. There were tears of the joy of baby girl’s arrival after quite an intense labor and delivery. There were tears of pride for my son’s new title of Dad and the tenderness I witnessed as he held his baby girl. There were tears of missing my youngest son. I miss Riley every day.

I am honored to have seen Braylin grow from birth to one month old. Being there was a privilege. To be back in Arizona was a good thing in so many ways. To be able to be near Braden again, to help Hannah and to hold my granddaughter swelled my heart. To change her diapers was a treat. I treasured every sound she made, her baby smell and her big eyes when she was awake. To rock baby girl to sleep feeling her breath on my neck in her peaceful slumber gave me peace.

Peace is something I look for daily. Being a mother has been my life, my first priority, my largest job. Being a grandmother is something I have looked forward to since my babies were no longer babies. This new position of Grandma Reed is covered with pride.

The title Grandma Reed is an honorary one. I want to be a Grandma like my Grandma Reed and my childrens’ Grandma Reed. To go about grandmothering as they did would be an accomplishment. Both women were the definition of selfless with comforting arms and a peaceful spirit. They took the punches of this world while continuing to behave with dignity and grace. Their children and grandchildren were their pride. There was safety in their arms. Wisdom when they spoke.

When my children were sick or had an immediate need, I asked the Grandma Reeds to pray. They had a direct line to God I believed. He would surely hear their prayers and get back to us with an answer lickety split if they were praying. Grandma Reed and Great Grandma Reed share heaven with Riley now. I like that they are there with him until I can be there too.

Grandma Reeds cooked the best food, sewed and mended, taught us, prayed with us and for us, wiped away tears, welcomed us with open arms, gave us kisses and hugs- not money- not things- they gave us lessons. That is the Grandma Reed legacy. I want to be that kind of Grandma.

Call me Grandma Reed.

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I Love You, Riley.

Can We Have One More?

April 28, 2015April 28, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

Next Sunday, May 3rd is Riley’s birthday and the anniversary of his death. It feels like a countdown. I am already very uncomfortable knowing it is coming. There are a boat load of good memories of raising Riley. Eighteen years worth to be exact. Yet I cannot seem to be able to reach them all yet. It is like my brain has put up a road block that says you can’t handle them all at this time. I’m not pushing it. I can wait. They are there to be reflected on for the rest of my life. I’ll let my brain take it’s time.

On a summer day in 1995 while watching my 5-year-old and 3-year-old in the play pool in our backyard, I had a thought. The thought continued as I smiled content while they sat at their plastic table on the patio dripping wet from the pool eating the lunch I had made for them. The thought percolated for the rest of the day even when I was saying, “Do not draw on that table!” “Give it back to your brother.” Even while I was thinking Why do I bother to shut the door as Braden laid on the bathroom floor talking through that gap between door and floor saying, “Mom. Mom. Mom.” That night after our dinner for four, after tucking the kids into their beds, after we had covered our day’s events, I took a deep breath looked at Greg and blurted it out, “Can we have one more?”

Three children instead of two sounded good. The two children we had brought into this world were perfect one girl, one boy, yet when I thought about family holidays in the future, I pictured the more the merrier. We needed more grandchildren to spoil and to climb into our laps. I was still young, the kids were still young yet I was thinking ahead. Three children sounded good.

Greg’s reply was, “Wait, What?, Whoa…Hmm, OK.” Ok I really don’t remember what he said but it was probably a conversation that had a Wait, a What? a Whoa followed by some thought and a whole-hearted agreement. I think that process of thinking on his part didn’t take any longer than mine. It sounded right to both of us to have one more.

I decided that if I could have my wish, I would deliver before the heat of an Arizona summer. I knew I would be happy with a boy or a girl but from the start I imagined a boy. We believed God had a plan if it would happen, the timing if it did, and the sex of the child. We asked God for a healthy child. Greg and I started trying for one more.

I found out I was pregnant while Greg and the kids were in Oregon visiting his family. I couldn’t wait til he got home to tell him so I told him over the phone. It was meant to be. He was excited. I was excited. The kids were excited. There would be dinner for five now. We started preparing for one more.

When I was pregnant with Bria, I imagined delivering a chubby blonde boy who was like his Dad. Bria was a gorgeous baby girl with rose bud lips and big blue eyes. Braden was a handsome baby boy with a full head of dark hair and an easy sweet demeanor. We decided that the baby’s name would be Riley if it were a boy or a girl. We were going to have one more.

Riley Reed Peterson was delivered at 9:30 pm after my water breaking hours before with a rush to the hospital only to find out we weren’t even close. After some time, they induced me. As Greg sat by my side holding my hand while watching a Phoenix Sun’s playoff basketball game, the contractions got closer and the grip of my hand in his got tighter. In due time, I delivered my smallest baby in size of 7 lbs 7 oz with dark hair and a loud cry. He was perfect. We had one more.

We welcomed Riley into our lives with tears of joy and pride. We said goodbye to Riley with the same tears of pride and joy for having had one more.

I Love You, Riley.

Age Is Mind Over Matter

April 14, 2015April 14, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

I have turned 50. What have I learned in 50 years on this earth? It’s all about how you look at it. You can only find happy and contentment from within. You can’t change people. People will disappoint you. Just when you think that person would never…you find out they did. Just because it looks one way, doesn’t mean that it is. You think you are safe, you’re not. Open your mind. Be still. Grief is individual. Life is short don’t waste a minute. Roll with the punches and stand back up.

Age is mind over matter. I forget that I am as old as I am. My mind and body don’t match up. I am still growing up. 50 years on this earth. I’m just now starting to live in a way I never imagined was possible with so much new around me. I was set in a life that was pretty good, but I stepped out on a ledge and dove head first. I was stomping in puddles and climbing trees with a newfound freedom of being me and then Riley died. That shook up my world to a point I never could have imagined. I am changed forever yet my insides are still there cooking, bubbling up and being fed in unexpected ways. Finding joy again is in the future they tell me.

Grief is a son of a bitch. I want my youngest son back. I don’t want the 50 years back. I don’t want to go back. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life to this point and I can’t change what happened to Riley. It is done. He is gone. Makes me angry. Makes me hurt beyond belief. The pain makes me want to quit and die too. It is true. But I want to see what happens next in my life. I just wish he had a life. I had planned to see him graduate from college, marry, have kids. I wanted to see what he would become, what he got to do, the life he would create. Yet, his life stopped. Mine continues.

As I am about to write a big check to the IRS which pisses me off, as I wonder about my income and my future. As I worry about making the right decisions as I make them on my own for the first time ever. I wonder what will my life look like ahead. I don’t know. I have one less child on earth. I have two more really great children who have whole lives ahead. I can’t wait to see what they do with theirs as their journeys continue. What will I do with mine? Why make plans? They change and get broken. How about I just go with it and trust life will take me where I am supposed to be. God knows.

This morning as I eat blueberry cream pie for breakfast. As I suffer from the sugar high that is on its way, I have to be thankful for 50 years lived. That includes the disappointment and severe inner pain. I will sit back and ride this life as it unfolds. Life is a journey. I know that more than ever. There are pit stops and corners to turn. I don’t know what the next 50 years will hold. I am hoping there are that many years to experience. I’m looking forward to joy, happy, healthy and watching my children’s lives unfold with joy being happy and healthy.

I’m looking forward to overcoming the challenges that I face right now and then meeting the new ones along the way. I can do this life. I know I can. It is a little emptier, a little lonelier and very unsure. Challenges create growth and I’m up for growth. I am more confident in myself than I have ever been. I am writing when I only dreamed of writing. I am living on my own when I only dreamed of living this way.

I am stronger than I ever thought. I am stronger than I wish I had to be. But it seems to be part of my journey is to face the unthinkable and to keep standing. It is all about mind over matter. So here’s to 50 years lived and 50 more!

I Love You, Riley.

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Belonging To “The Riley Group!”

August 31, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

I just woke up to a dark room. I took an accidental nap on the couch. There are on purpose naps and there are I closed my eyes for a second naps that I would say are accidental. I woke up with an urge to start searching through some of Riley’s email and Facebook. I go in spurts where it seems doable to dive into Riley stuff and other times I cannot, so I don’t. I am trying to know what by looking? I am not sure. I am seeing things that were personal to Riley. Things I wouldn’t have seen ever if he wasn’t gone. There are moments while I look that I don’t think that I want to know. There are more moments I think I do want to know. I have had the privilege of knowing Riley better by the stories that have been told to me by random people about him. I am thankful to see him through their eyes.

I went way back in messages to 2009 and saw Riley as an 8th grader. I could hear his immature voice and the pre-teen thinking in what he wrote as a 13-year-old. He made a group called “The Riley Group!” He did that because I had found a Djuana page on Facebook and had found out there were other Djuana’s in the world. I know, hard to believe others are named Djuana but last I looked there were 33 of us. Riley messaged a bunch of people of all ages with the name Riley asking them if they wanted to join his group. No one joined. Dangit, I want to go back and make that endeavor successful for him. Why wasn’t I paying attention then and helping him make that group? Should I have been? I remember when he did it, he announced his plan to me. He even wrote on the page “‘my mom joined a group called the djana group so i decided to make a riley group, all Riley’s join the group!” He misspelled my name. (I’m smiling.)

While looking at his Facebook, I also came across his musician/band page made in 2013 called “I Got Lost” where he posted a recording of him playing “Black Bird” on his guitar. I cried listening to it. I could imagine his fingers on the strings with his head down while he played. We know he recorded other songs that he had written. We haven’t found where he downloaded them yet. I hope we can find them. It feels very important.

I happened to be in the choir room this last year when some of the students were performing for the class. Riley and another choir member sang a song. Riley played his guitar. I heard him, came out of the back room and stood in the back while I watched my boy sing and play for his peers. The choir teacher later told me she saw the pride and joy on my face as I listened. I am sure she did see that.

Riley was on the cusp of feeling more successes in life, in college and beyond. I wish he had lived to have seen those successes. I wish he hadn’t taken that pill. I hope he has heard the stories people have told of how knowing him changed their lives. How he made a difference for the girl who was contemplating suicide. I hope he knows how grateful that boy is that Riley took the time to befriend him. I hope that he is aware of how many lives he impacted. There’s a story by a girl who was in the hall crying. Though Riley didn’t know her, he went out of his way to distract her from whatever was making her cry. He said something random which is what he often did to get people’s attention. That created a conversation, her smiling and ultimately feeling better. My son, with a smile and a personality to match, had made people’s days where ever he went. He had 800 people who filled the church pouring into make shift seating at his funeral that would have belonged to “The Riley Group!”

I sat with a counselor this week and she told me grieving is a hard process. She said to give myself a break. That losing a child tops the list of losses. I get that. I know that. It must be the umbilical cord between us that is never really gone. The distance between us pulls me, yanks me, and holds me to him. I won’t ever let go.

I continue to wish that this is a bad nightmare and that I will wake up. Something tells me that 20 years from now I’m still going to be hoping, wishing, pleading to wake up. Oh, my sweet baby boy.

I Love You, Riley.