When Doves Fly

April 20, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Spring is in the air. The grass is a lush green. There are buds of leaves springing on the trees. Overnight the scenery around me changes. I go to sleep with bare bushes and wake up to green, purple, and white buds blossoming. The pastures are a deep green with wild flowers and dandelions, the sky is blue and I am breathing fresh cool air. The birds are singing. This is all so refreshing. I have lived here six months. It is a new season to experience and I am ready for it.

Riley is on my mind. I have had a break from crying the last few weeks. I have had an uncanny sense of calm. I can’t really explain why. I’m fighting some anger these days about Riley’s case and the situation of his death, but not even that has dug into my gutt. I’m busy with work. I’m not sure exactly why I am calm. I’m not going to complain.

I am in tune to the birds here. It has made me think of a dove that appeared on my balcony during the time right after Riley died. I had lived there a year and had not seen one there before. I was alone on my couch crying and overwhelmed with my grief. I was wishing it wasn’t true- that it was all a bad dream.The dove appeared and stayed for two days. It flew back and forth from one side of the balcony to the other. When I rolled over to cry more, it would bump into the sliding glass door making sure I knew it was there. It perched, it cooed and it stared at me through the window. I went to sleep, I woke up and it was still there.

About then I decided I needed to keep moving. I had to stand up. I had to dig for my strength. I have just kept breathing and putting one foot in front of the other since. I cry when I need to cry. I yell into the empty space when I feel anger. I get it out. I talk to Riley and tell him that I love him every time he passes through my mind. I am facing my grief. All of the ups and downs, the lulls and the storm of emotions and I have found I am remarkably still standing as we near the one year mark.

A dove has recently started nesting in my gutter on my front porch of my log cabin here in Kentucky. It is raining. Even in the rain, she does not move. She looks at me. The sounds of Bert clunking around underneath her does not disturb her. The mail woman who drove up my driveway to give me a package did not make her budge. She remains steadfast and still. She is protecting what is growing beneath her.

Doves bring peace. They are rare amongst birds in that they produce their own milk to feed their young. They cease foraging before their babies are born to ensure the milk is pure. This is a sacrifice for their young. This is nurturing and motherhood. They represent care, devotion, and purity. In the midst of battle and conflict, the dove is a symbol of peace that will come. The cooing of a dove is lulling and calming. The dove is representative of unconditional love. It is believed that when a dove is seen flying it means a soul has been released from earth.

Riley’s soul is not here anymore. It has been released. I will continue to fight this fight for Riley. This I can do for him.

My son is gone because of a first time try of acid/LSD. He is gone because blood sucking, money hoarding human beings are behind making these drugs that are bought online. Someone messed up making the tab Riley bought from the high school dealer. A tab with the highest amount of LSD the medical examiner had seen in one body in his 30 year career. One try of LSD took my child. He couldn’t have, wouldn’t have known this outcome. I know that he would go back and make a different choice if he could. He cannot.

Choices have consequences. I beg teens to make smart choices. Think before you act. Know that you are not invincible. Riley’s death is proof of that. Save your parents from this pain. Don’t mess with drugs. Step away from whatever pressure you feel to try or to continue using. That’s whatever drug is in front of you. Be different. Stay alive. Think about Riley.

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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My Caterpillar

April 6, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

My dream has been to write in a log cabin in the woods some day. Now that I’m here at my desk looking out the window at the green grass and trees …what will I do with this opportunity?

One of the projects I have in the works is a children’s book. The main character is a purple elephant with a big grin and paisley feet named “Smiley Riley”. Purple was Riley’s favorite color. The elephant was one of his favorite animals. The character has emerged to fit him perfectly. I have an illustrator that I am working with to develop “Smiley Riley”. I have the theme of the first book. Now how do I write it? Various ideas rattle through my brain on how to go about telling stories to a pre-kindergarten audience. It’s a creative heart warming process for me.

In my research, I have spent hours sitting on the floor in the isles of my own childhood memories of books. Danville’s library is a red brick building with white trim. It stands majestically with nearby church bells tolling on the hour. It has a round foyer and staircases with white banisters. The children’s section is a relaxed area for fun around books. On each trip, I find a new part of the alphabet to look through. I crawl along the floor picking books that look interesting then sit in the isle and read. I pick books that I don’t turn past the first page and then I find others that make me smile and literally chuckle out loud as I read them.

I smile at the story line, the illustration and sometimes I smile because I read that book many times to my oldest daughter, Bria who is now 25. The books I remember treasuring as a child myself are still on the shelves and popular amongst the little eyes and ears who are sitting on their mother’s lap listening intently today. I read Goodnight Moon to Bria so many times. Braden liked any book about firetrucks. Riley liked the adventures of Corduroy, the bear.

Recently I was working and was distracted to Riley’s Facebook page. I was looking through photos he posted on his timeline over the years. I reveled in listening to his voice by comments he made. Remembering who he was and that humor of his that was so him. It was a wonderful hour of being next to Riley again. There was his voice in what he wrote, a video of him playing the tuba, his laugh and funny faces right there on my screen. And then there it was, he posted a photo of the book Corduroy by Don Freeman and another of The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. He was being nostalgic about his favorite books as a child. Eric Carle’s books had been on my mind. It is one of the examples of a book that has remained popular since Bria was born.

The next day, I went to the library and found The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle and checked it out. I got it home and I opened it. I read each page looking at the photos while remembering. I remembered the times of reading it to each of my children while they sat on my lap or sometimes a child was cuddled up close on either side of me and one little Riley was placed on my lap. I hadn’t thought of the story line of A Very Hungry Caterpillar in a very long time until the story unfolded with the turn of each page. At the end of the book, I cried. Tears rolled down my cheeks and hit that last page. At the end was a picture of a beautiful butterfly.

In some cultures, butterflies represent the soul. The souls of those who have passed away. The transformation from egg to adult. Riley was born and died on the same date. He lived. He laughed. He helped others. He shared his smile. He played his guitar and sang his heart out. He barely made it to adult by hours and then he was gone.

Riley had a good life. He had his teenage angst. He did things I wouldn’t have approved of. He did alot of things I did approve of. And his life was cut short by trying a drug. As our children grow older, they have the freedom of choice. To cross the road without looking both ways. To talk to strangers. To not put their seatbelt on when they pull out of the driveway. To text while driving. To have sex without a condom. To try a drug for a forbidden high.

There’s no way to beat it into their brains. My theory is that we educate them of the dangers out there and that they know the possible outcome of their choices. As they grow older, some of those warnings we have given make sense to them. Some of those warnings obviously don’t as our teens take chances. The teen brain says, “I am invincible. It cannot happen to me.”

Riley’s story says it can happen. We are not invincible. Drugs kill. Even on the first try. I hate drugs.

I Love You, Riley.

The Connective Tissue of Loss and Life

March 9, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

Riley’s 16th birthday, May 3, 2012, was a monumental day. He and I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get his driver’s license. Getting his driver’s license was a big deal. Big for Riley. Big for me too. This meant I could send him to get milk at the grocery store. It meant that I wasn’t the chauffeur anymore. It meant that now I would worry about him driving and being safe. Mostly, being my youngest, I knew he was the last of my children that I would bring to this very spot to pass one more milestone in his life. I remember sitting there waiting with him feeling very nostalgic and sad. This was one more last time which I knew more were coming quickly like each birthday party marking a year older closer to when he would be grown, gone and on his own. There would be high school graduation before I knew it and then college.

After many trips of being on the passenger side of the car to and from school, on errands, Riley was getting his driver’s license. When it was our turn, Riley was handed the paperwork to fill out. I watched him pen in his name, birth date, etc. He also filled out the authorization of the Donor Registration. He did not hesitate. He was willing to give the gift of life by donating parts of his body if his life ended. He marked ‘Yes’ to all twelve of the anatomical gifts listed. I remember the shiver up my spine imagining that his life could ever end. I wiped that thought from my mind quickly. I was proud of him it was just another sign of the giving person he was. Just like the pride I felt when he came back from his driving test with a smile on his face, he had passed.

On May 3, 2014, on Riley’s 18th birthday, only hours after we found out that he had died, we received a call from the Donor Network of Arizona to talk to us about his tissue donation. I was surprised at the call. There was a list of questions for us and a detailed explanation of what would happen next. We were all still in shock sitting in a room crying, pacing, staring in blank air, trying to put it all together. We were still trying to understand how this happened, why it happened. I was still pleading to God that it not be true. It was not a good time for a call like this. I understand why the call is made so quickly, but still who had the with all to focus on anything.

Yet, knowing he was giving the gift of life and healing to others from his lifeless body gave me a warm feeling even at that horrific time. He would live on in others physically. That sounded good and brutal in those moments of freshly losing my child. Riley donated every part of him that was viable. Tissue, eyes (cornea), veins, skin, bone and connective tissue. I’ve thought a lot about the fact that someone got his beautiful soft skin. I miss touching him. The good feeling is that he must have helped many people.

Recently we received our first letter from a recipient. I am sure there will be more to come. The letter came from a man who had torn his tricep from his elbow in a fall. By using Riley’s tissue, they were able to attach it back. He relayed his gratitude, thanking us and said when he was completely healed, it would be as good as new. There ya go, Riley, you’re still helping others. That’s my boy.

I am proud of Riley for this decision. I am thankful to be able to know that he lives on in others. I recently saw messages of his friends talking of missing him, wishing they would see him sitting at Coffee Rush, wishing they could talk to him. The loss of Riley is huge in our family, yet his death has effected so many outside of it. I have messages from his peers as well as adults that say who he was has changed their life forever. They will remember him and try to emulate the love he showed to others. I have messages from parents who tell Riley’s story in hopes that their children will not make such a fatal mistake of trying a drug. I have messages from teens who say they will not try drugs because of Riley’s story.

The connective tissue of a loss and still living is evident here in more ways than one. He is effecting lives to this day. That’s my boy!

I Love You, Riley.

Pizza For Superheroes

March 4, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Pizza- Riley’s favorite food. I wonder what he was doing with that fork. Surely he wasn’t bothering with a fork to eat his pizza. We were at a big slice pizza place at the beach in San Diego on vacation. Riley was in heaven with that big ol piece of pizza as big as his plate. Pizza! Yum! When we saw this picture, we talked about going back to the pizza place to show them it. For sure they would want it hanging on their wall for an advertisement of their restaurant. Look at that face! What a cute kid he was! I mean who wouldn’t melt just looking at this picture? Wouldn’t they want a piece of pizza too?

Those were the days that Riley wore his Superman cape, baseball hat and cowboy boots daily. He also had pajamas with capes attached to them. I can see him now dressed in his pajamas running through the house with wide long strides. His arms swinging with his small hands tight in a fist while his cape was flowing behind him. He would stand on the couch with his hands resting on his hips, chest pushed out, looking around the room for anyone in distress to save in his imaginary world. Then in a sudden move, he would leap off the couch and go running as fast as he could across the room looking back to make sure his cape was flowing. Riley moved from one Superhero to the next. He had a Batman year. He had a Superman time and he also had a Spiderman time in his life. Oh, I love him. I wish his Superhero powers could have saved him from his fate that day.

From the stories told to me, Riley, even as a teen, was often looking for those in distress to save. Many times he approached someone who was crying, even strangers. The stories are of situations in which he took the hurt and the pain away by Riley being Riley. He was unique, creative, sincere. He took the time to talk. He gave away smiles. He gave hugs. He caused laughter. He saved lives.

It has been 10 months today since Riley died. I’d like to say it gets easier, it doesn’t. I seem to get better at diverting my thoughts in order to survive/function each day. Yet sometimes remembering a Riley moment hits me and throws me to the ground. At those times, I have to lay there and take it, accept it, feel it and wash myself in tears for a while. It is survival of the fittest to handle the grief of losing a child. Some days I do it better than others.

Pizza is how we celebrated with Riley. Most of his birthday dinners, by his choice, involved pizza. We had pizza when he got his letter of acceptance to NAU. There were too many times to count that we bought pizza for his friends who gathered at our house to watch movies or swim in our backyard. In that same backyard, some of those friends gathered and smoked weed when we weren’t there. It’s just weed they say. Everyone does it. What’s laced in the weed? Where did it come from? Is it synthetic? Are you sure? It’s not just taking acid that is like playing Russian roulette. How many stay at just smoking weed? How many go and try something else? That’s what I want to know.

Riley wanted to try something else. His first try of acid killed him. Riley was an extraordinary human being that made a difference in many lives by being Riley while he was alive. I can only hope that he can help others through the story of his death so that they won’t die too. Drugs kill whether it is in addiction that many didn’t plan on and then can’t shed or by getting a bad batch of something or the wrong mix of drugs or the unknown drug that they didn’t know they were taking or a drug causing death by violence or an accident to themselves or someone else. The stories are vast and too many.

Riley, my pizza lovin’ son who was a blessing for many by still being a superhero til the day he died would say it’s not worth it.

I Love You, Riley.

Sometimes You Have To Build A Snowman

February 23, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Sometimes you just need to hold on for one more day. Depression can hit at the most inopportune times. It can simmer awhile. You can keep it at bay and then all of a sudden it has overwhelmed you. That’s what happened to me. I hurt my back. Dangit, I don’t want to admit I am getting older, but I am. I see it. I feel it. I know it just by my sincere wisdom. Hey, don’t laugh! You can’t live this long and not know a thing or two about life. But in my mind, I am not old. Wasn’t I just twenty something? I swear I was just starting to have babies – wasn’t I? Now they are 25, 22 and forever 18.

Up to this point, I haven’t thought twice about what I am about to tackle, lift, carry, or reach for. I felt fine that night when I went to bed. I woke up and my back hurt! It hurt bad! This was new for me and I didn’t like it. Laying still with a heating pad for two days was terrible. I don’t do sitting still well. I napped while I laid there. I flipped through television everyone was shooting someone or dying. I had to turn it off. I don’t like television anyways. When I tried to read, the father was dying in the book. I had to close the book. I am so sensitive to death now. I talked to my dog, Bert. That didn’t go well for long. I bundled up, went outside and swang on my porch swing. The tears came out of nowhere. They wouldn’t stop.

Being still is not a good thing in the middle of grief. It’s awful- I think and I miss Riley. I miss all three of my kids. None of my kids are here with me. What I would do to touch, hug, kiss any one of them. Two of them I can touch again. One I know I will never again be able to feel in my arms, kiss and squeeze tight. The stark reality of that hurts worse than the back pain.

With the rest, my back started to feel better then we had snow. I got distracted. Being from the desert, I am in awe of all of this white stuff. I was smiling, breathing a sigh of relief for a bit then I thought again. I couldn’t leave the house with the weather as it was so I thought some more. I couldn’t find anything to move my mind to something else, but sad things, memories, the ache of wanting my boy back. The grief laid on me like a heavy blanket. It is knowing it is not going to get better tomorrow or the next day or next year. What is my purpose? Why am I here to face this every day? All of this was tormenting me.

I fell asleep. I slept deeply. I woke up better. I made it to another day. The snow was melting. I bundled up, found a patch of snow and made a snowman. I laid in the snow and stared at a blue sky with sun shining in my eyes. I enjoyed a moment. Oh the grief was still there, but I felt lighter.

Sometimes you just have to hold on for one more day. Sometimes you have to build a snow man. Collect your energy, build on it, baby it, feel the cold on your hands and the warmth later. Grief stinks. Those that haven’t gone through losing a child can’t get it completely. I hope that they never do. I don’t wish this on anyone and I’m sorry if you know my pain.

How do we survive this? Like collecting snow in your hands to build up a snow man, build up something to distract you. Concentrate on work, a project, family, something new, something old, something that feeds your soul. Baby yourself. Do not isolate yourself for too long. Find a grief support group of people who know and understand your pain. Like patting the snow, take care of you, do what you need to do. There is no shame in your tears, anger, sadness. Face the cold of the grief, it is here to stay. Embrace the warmth of putting your hands in your pockets and thawing out a little bit when you get a break. Know that a lighter moment like that can come and there will be more. You made it through another day.

You can do this. Step back and look at your snowman- what you have created, what you still have in the midst of your loss. First and foremost, you have you and you are worth the fight to survive this. Hold on! You, like me, can do one more day.

I love you, Riley.