Rockabye Baby

July 28, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

When Riley was a toddler he fell asleep in the oddest places. Being the third child he had to, I suppose. I was busy running around with two other children who had to be at grade school and preschool and be picked up at different times. Of course those pick up times were in the middle of Riley’s nap time. I drug him out for play dates, girl scouts and T-ball practices for the older two kids. I have a picture of him asleep on the stairs. He is sitting on one step with his head on the other sound asleep in his favorite Spiderman pajamas which he wore as much as possible day and night. I have another picture of him asleep in a plastic tub most likely he was playing in it, curled up and decided to snooze a bit. I even have a picture of him asleep on the toilet. It’s the cutest picture. He is in a baseball hat turned backwards, sleeveless t-shirt with his head cocked sideways fast asleep with his shorts down around his ankles. I’m not going to show you that one, but it’s a cute one!

Riley was my last baby. I went to Greg and said, “I want one more. I want a chubby blonde boy.” It’s exactly what I got too. I didn’t know you could order up exactly what you want when you have children, but we did. Bria looked like a baby doll with rose bud lips and big eyes. She was determined to not sleep when we wanted her to. Oh the things we did to try to get that child to sleep. Braden was sweet with a full head of hair. He had a ball in his hand as soon as he could hold one. He put himself to sleep when I put him down with no fuss. Braden survived big sister’s abuse. Bria was 2 1/2 and I found her picking him up as a newborn more than once trying to carry him off like a doll. I think maybe Braden in turn payed forward when Riley arrived. Riley was born with dark hair that turned blonde. Riley was cute as a button. He was just plain kissable. He came out smiling and he didn’t stop. I rocked him to sleep to an older age than the rest. I would whisper songs to him and rock. When the hustle and bustle of the day was over, I took the time to hold him as I watched him fall asleep. I savored that time we had together. I can still feel that time in the rocking chair holding him close as we rocked back and forth together.

I don’t have trouble sleeping like many people seem to experience as they are going through grief. Though the first night that he died, I did not sleep. It was the most awful, painful, draining day of my entire life. I wouldn’t relive that day again for a million bucks. I do know to be thankful for my hours of rest and sleep. It gives me a break from the ache that I feel. The problem is, I wake up and he’s still not here anymore. Waking up is not what it used to be before Riley died.

Riley and I had a ritual where I popped, rubbed and scratched his back before bed. When at 17, he was still asking as he was going to bed, “Mom will you rub my back?” I was surprised he was still asking. I can’t tell you how many times, I was in bed, had a headache or was in the middle of something when he asked. Yet if he found me awake and asked, I got up and did that for him. It was a long process and I couldn’t skip to just scratching his back or do it out of order. It was a time that we talked about nonsensical things to serious things. Teenagers, they are hard to pin down to talk to so ya gotta get those talks in when you can even when it is about an event of their day, what’s going on with a friend or something as deep as whether the Bible is literal. We hit on all kinds of subjects during that time.

I guess I did savor bedtime with Riley from infancy to very close to adulthood. I didn’t rub his back at 18. I missed it by a day. The last time I was sitting on his back rubbing it, I asked if he was going to miss this when he went away to college. He said “Yep, lower, no to the right- ya there.” Oh, how I miss my sweet baby boy.

I love you, Riley.

Time

July 22, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Harvey MacKay said, “Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can send it. Once you’ve lost it you can never get it back.”

Time stood still when Riley died. I didn’t know what day it was for the first month. I was in such a task mode at first. I dragged myself out of bed, showered and moved forward. The funeral plans kept me moving. Then the funeral was over and I feared what was next. What was next was pain that had gotten larger. The ache inside me got to a new level. I wondered how I would be able to function but I did function. I cried. I wiped my tears and moved slowly across my day. Each step is heavy. This grief thing is like carrying a heavy load. There is no getting it off your back. It’s always there.

Two and a half months later, I think time is my enemy. The pain is becoming stronger with time. How much worse can it get I wonder. It hits me out of the blue. A Riley memory happens, the pain floods through me and then poors out. One evening I was looking for a picture that my daughter asked me to send her. I came across a file on my computer of pictures from a Thanksgiving a few years ago that I hadn’t seen in a long time. There was Riley…. younger, his hair not even touching his shoulders with his arm around me smiling at the camera. I broke out in tears. I couldn’t stop crying. You know the swollen eyes, snot stuffed up in your nose you can’t breath kinda hard cry? It was one of those cries. It’s the realization that hits. He is not here. He will not be here. He is gone forever.

When I open my Facebook page and see my cover photo of him in one of his senior pictures that was taken only two weeks before he died, I ache to touch his face. It makes me so pickin’ mad that he won’t be looking at me again with a Riley grin. It is so real now that I won’t ever touch him again. I don’t want it to be real. I was hoping it wasn’t. I kept hoping I would wake up and he was back. If its only been this amount of time and it hurts this bad, how much worse can it get?

The pain of losing your child has to be the worst pain anyone ever has to go through. I am sure of it I’m angry that this happened, just really really angry. My sweet baby boy had a life ahead. Taken from him by a drug. A pill. The culture we live in promises drugs are cool. Smoking pot is the norm among teens today. Teens of all peer groups smoke pot-legal or not, they smoke it. Why not go for a different high and see what that is like? How about mix a few drugs and see what happens? It’s cool right? No, its not. No, its not when the drug causes harm to yourself or someone else. It can end a life. Riley’s story is not rare. It happens. Too often it has happened. It can and does happen by that one try. I HATE DRUGS.

How can I get this message out? How can we make sure that the risk is known that every time a drug is smoked, snorted, inhaled, or swallowed death can occur? Time is defined as “the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.” There is no continued progress of existence or events for Riley. Time for me as a parent exists, but it is skewed to a point that I don’t know how to exist and progress without my son. Riley lost time forever by one decision to try a drug. Tell Riley’s story to the young and the old in your life. Tell it to the neighbors, the relatives, coworkers and the teens you know. Educate yourselves on the synthetic drugs that are out there being sold by online labs to dealers who don’t give a crap what’s in it or the outcome of its use. Talk to your kids.

I Love You, Riley.

I Miss You

July 6, 2014July 6, 2014 / djuanadreed / 4 Comments

Riley

The song, “From Where You Are” was written by Jason Wade of the band, Lifehouse. It was written in tribute to a friend of his that died in a car accident when he was 16.

I was working around the house yesterday with my Ipod in my ears and this song popped up in an old playlist. It said what I was feeling at the moment. I sure miss Riley! It has only been two months. I fear the strength of the pain the farther we get from his death. It hurts so very bad now. I miss touching his face. It’s the sweetest face. I miss kidding around with him and the laughs that came from that. I even miss giving him those lectures that results in a teenage roll of the eyes. He is not here to get that lecture. I can’t touch his face. We won’t laugh again. I planned to have many more of those moments with him.It’s not right. None of this is right.

Have I mentioned how much I hate drugs? I hate drugs! Talk to your kids. Kids, talk to your friends. Tell them Riley’s story.

I Love You, Riley.

Just Go

July 1, 2014July 6, 2014 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

I am on a road trip. I just had my nose pressed up against the glass watching fireworks going off from my fourth story hotel room in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I enjoyed the unexpected show of exploding colorful lights in the night sky. This is quite a road trip for me. It is not a planned road trip. There has been no forethought to the whats, wheres, and whens of this trip. I packed up my car and left with a printed map off the internet and an ending destination on the GPS in my car. All I knew it was 1,823 miles and that it would take an estimated 28 hours and 6 minutes. As I drove out of town, I drove by a little auto shop that did not appear busy. I pulled in and said “I’m leaving right now for Kentucky, will you check my fluids and my tires?” The young man said, “Really? That’s a serious cross country road trip. You are braver than I am.” I thought, “Wait! What? No, don’t think about it, Djuana. Just Go.”

When my car’s once over was complete, I did “Just Go” with a cooler full of ice and water bottles, a flashlight, a bag of potato chips, the largest bag of almond M&M’s that I could find, a soft stuffed dog of Riley’s to hug if needed and a conscious decision to not think as I pulled onto the highway. You should know that I am a planner. I over plan. I tend to think of every possible incident and try to prepare for it. I do that every time I prepare for a trip. I do that over planning about allot of things that come my way. Not this time, I just went knowing I need a break and I knew exactly where I should go for it.

What a beautiful thing this spur of the moment decision has been for me. As I drove toward Flagstaff, I was singing out loud to a song on the radio. I thought to myself, “Hey, I feel lighter!” Low and behold I was smiling too. A smile and a spontaneous one at that. That hadn’t happened for me in awhile. My grief sits on me like a heavy load day and night. Smiles happen, of course, but one that comes with a light feeling instead of that heavy load I’ve been feeling while belting out a song on the radio felt good.

Let me add to this whole road trip scenario and tell you that I hate road trips. I mean, I really do not like road trips. This road trip sounded good to me for some reason. As I have thought about this light feeling I am experiencing while driving along, I have decided this road trip is about so much more than getting from point A to point B. This trip may be about the freedom of trying a new thing out of my comfort zone. This road trip may be about control. I have learned over the years that my kids will make decisions that I agree with and ones that I do not agree with. I have learned in my years of parenting that at this point, I have little control. This was very evident on May 3rd when Riley died. I gave it my best shot in talking to him about drugs as often as I could. He knew better. I told him. I warned him. He made his decision despite those talks. Having two other children who have entered adulthood, I have seen good decisions and poor decisions in the repertoire of their decision making. Riley’s mistake was a whopper that ended his life. I had no control in the decisions Riley made that night. I wish there was a rewind button for him to have a redo to make a different decision. I imagine that he wishes for that too. I want to scream loud enough telling Riley’s story to stop other kids from the same fate. The consequence of death from drug use happens and happens too often. I hate it. I hate drugs. But right now I have the freedom and control of driving, stopping to see some scenic view, listening to the music I want to listen to, eating what I want to eat, and not feeling bad for having to stop to tinkle a zillion times.

The color green and the moisture of the air is growing the farther I drive from the desert of Arizona. Today as I drove, I spent a good amount of time with one hand out the top of my open sunroof feeling the cooler air. I dug through my CD case for something different to listen to and found a CD that said “From Ri ” on it. I put it in and once it started playing, I smiled big. It was songs by Reel Big Fish that he had burned on a CD for me several years ago. Listening to the songs reminded me of that time in his life. He enjoyed going to a couple of their concerts. I vividly remember the conversations we had about their music. Surprises of Riley memories happen often. Sometimes they bring smiles, sometimes they bring tears but I am glad for them to occur in the moments that they do.

I’ve been on the road for two days, I have driven about 600 miles a day yet I’m not tired of driving. Tomorrow I should get to my destination. I am almost sad it is over, but then I eventually have to drive back to Arizona! The ending to my road trip is a place I can have tranquility in the woods. I need that. There are sights, sounds, smells and lots and lots of green that I really enjoy. Life won’t stop while I am sitting in the woods writing. I am taking the pain of Riley’s death with me on this road trip as it is wherever I am. I can not run away from it. At night in the hotel room, I feel the sadness. It is still there. When I get driving on the highway each day, I get that relief again. I’m thinking I cannot keep driving like this but I can be thankful for it right now. I miss Riley like crazy. The pain seems to get worse as time passes. There are times that I still wonder how I will survive the loss of my sweet baby boy. Tomorrow, I will keep singing out loud, feeling the cooler air in my face, breathing better and enjoying the driving with my unexpected moments of joy. I’ll take those however or where ever I get them.

I Love You, Riley.

Holding On

June 22, 2014June 22, 2014 / djuanadreed / 7 Comments

They say God doesn’t give you more than you can handle. I have now had my fill of what I can handle. I am dangling by a thin thread by one hand saying out loud to God, “No more! Can this family have a break? I am worn out. I don’t think I can handle one bit more.” More challenges that are out of my control have come this week. I am not made of steel. I am strong. I know I am, but this is all too stinkin’ much. I’m getting smooshed under the weight of it all.

Riley’s pictures hurt now. There is an ache that comes over me when I see his face smiling behind a magnet on the refrigerator. I can be rushing through the kitchen and there he is smiling at me. I lose my breath when I see his face sometimes. I can be on the phone, look over at his picture sitting on the shelf on the bookcase and I forget the whole conversation while tears well up in my eyes. I want to kiss his cheek and touch him. I can’t. Riley won’t come into a room again smiling and say “Hi” the way that he did. He’s not going to kick his purple and gray Vans off at the bottom of the stairs before he climbs them. He won’t leave a dirty dish on the counter again. I now miss all of those times that I picked a dish up shaking my head thinking Riley, how hard is it to pick the plate up and put it in the sink? There are no dirty clothes waiting for me to wash for him. His bedroom door remains shut. He’s not behind that bedroom door sleeping.

Riley was not a morning person. He was grumpy in the mornings when he was woke up. I didn’t like grumpy so I was willing to give him space as long he got up. Sometimes it took more than one time to stick my head in the door and say, “Riley, get up!” What I would do to deal with Smiley Riley’s grumpy morning demeanor. I would give anything to see him open up that bedroom door. I want to pick up one of his dirty dishes on the counter and move it to the sink for him. I want to wash and fold his clothes for him. I really honestly do. I want to grab on to him and hug him tight. I want to sit by him, put my arm through his and breath the same air of Riley Reed Peterson. My son. My love. I can’t.

I have lost my sweet baby boy to drugs. I HATE DRUGS!

I am told there is no timeline or correct course in grief. I know there are stages of grief and I think I am already barreling through them. I hear that I will bounce from one stage to the other and I could repeat them. I do know that I must allow myself to feel the pain. The grief counselor told me that I am doing okay. I don’t feel like I am doing okay today. It is hard work, this life of grief that got dumped on me and I’m barely into it. I have a life time ahead of feeling the pain of losing my child. I know there is a rope within my reach from this thin thread. I will put two hands on it and I will hold on.

Share Riley’s story, please. Riley was a good kid that made a wrong decision. I am hoping that there is a kid out there that will hear Riley’s story and in turn, will make a different decision so that he or she can kick off their shoes, leave dirty dishes on the counter, and dirty up clothes so that their Mom or Dad can continue to have the privilege of putting their dirty dish in the sink, to wash and fold their laundry, to kiss, to touch and to hold them.

I Love You, Riley.

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A Bittersweet Father’s Day

June 15, 2014June 16, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Why do you suppose Father’s Day feels harder for me than Mother’s Day was? Mother’s Day came so quickly after Riley died. I was still numb and making my way through what had just happened. Well, I still am. Greg came with us on Mother’s day. I thought it was important that we all be together. When I flew that kite, I looked up high hoping that the kite would reach Riley some how. I stared up to the sky as the kite weaved and bobbed up there among the clouds with a back drop of a beautiful blue sky thinking… Come on down, be with us Riley. He was. He came along.

I imagine that today is a hard day for Greg. While he is celebrating being a father to three perfect children, he is missing one. Bria has grown to be a beautiful, intelligent, vibrant woman who is completely comfortable in front of a crowd of people just like her Dad. Braden has grown to be quite a talented, incredible young man who is giving of his time and abilities to others like his Dad. Riley was a mini Greg. Riley and Greg shared their love for music, talent in singing, and in the way they made others feel comfortable by their smiles and smart alic comments. Riley happened to look like Greg too. When we decided to have a third child, we couldn’t have guessed how blessed we would be. We called him “Bug” as a nickname. I’m not sure how he got that nickname, but it stuck. Riley turned out to be pretty darn amazing. We were, are very proud of him. The fact that he made a poor decision doesn’t discount any part of who he was. If I could change that decision, I would. I can’t. I think he could have ruled the world some day. In some ways, he still can impact the world in his absence. At least I am hoping so.

Father’s Day and Mother’s Day are bittersweet now. I am so very thankful for 18 years with Riley. I am praying for and counting on more than 24 and 22 years with Bria and Braden. I know now more than ever to be thankful for today. I couldn’t be a Mother without the Father so Happy Father’s Day, Greg. Thanks for making three beautiful children with me. We did pretty darn good!