Grief sucks.

May 29, 2016May 29, 2016 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Grief sucks. A parent’s loss of a child doesn’t compare to any other loss. I’m telling you it’s true. Right now my pain is worse than ever. May has been hard. This is the second May since Riley died. It feels rougher than the last. Maybe I got better at not concentrating on my grief and it has hit harder. Maybe I got better at keeping myself distracted. Maybe my life has been fuller this past year with my own business, finishing a basement, a birth of a grand-daughter and more. Maybe I am more awake and less numb at the two-year mark of his birthday and his death.

I can’t get away from the grief in my life. It is in my face every time I sit still. If I only could not be still, but I have to be still sometimes. It’s the worst when I try to go to sleep. I lay there and my grief, my loss eats at me and gnaws on my heart. It hurts. It is miserable. I hate it.

In the mornings it can be just as bad when I open my eyes. Some days I have a project or a place to be that I can concentrate on and then, at some point…I have to be still again. And there it is, the black clouds creeping over me and parking themselves on top of me, covering me from the sunshine. Tears like rain fall.

I just want my boy back with his smile, his humor, to hear his voice say, “I love you, Mom”.

In the club of parents who have lost a child we did not ask to be a part of, but were thrown into without permission, we have lost parents who have given in to the pain. They have quit the club to join their children. It is sad. It makes me angry that they quit. Yet, I get it. The pain must stop then. This emotional pain is awful. I have never lived with physical pain that I couldn’t eventually relieve. The emotional pain of grief can be shoved to the side in the midst of a day, but it’s always there waiting for you and it’s not going anywhere.

My son should still be alive. I don’t know why it had to happen to him. Why did Riley have to try LSD that night? Why couldn’t circumstances have been different to keep him from trying it? I don’t know. It happened. There is no rewind.

I spoke a lot this month to adults and teens. Each time I tell his story, I relive how special he was, how much I miss and love him and also the details of how he died. It’s not easy. Knowing a person might be impacted by his story and make a different decision than Riley did keeps me sure that this is what I am supposed to be doing despite the pain.

Grief sucks. Life doesn’t have to suck. I feel that I have to live to tell his story. I have to carry this pain. I have to grieve because there is no way around it. Living means more than grieving. My job is to savor the moments like finding lady bugs on my apple tree leaves and enjoying the site despite also discovering the cedar rust at the same time. That’s life.

I am thankful for that hug that reaches into my soul and lets it rest for a minute. For the hour on a hammock in the dark, under the moon, staring at the stars and feeling a peace that Riley is safely tucked in the heavens. For the sweet grand baby in my arms. For that phone call from my son. For that message from my daughter. Living for dancing in the kitchen, tasting a new food, experiencing something randomly new. For learning something I didn’t know. For the smiles and belly laughs that come to me.

Riley savored new sights and experiences.

I am thankful to be able to hear Riley’s voice in that video, his thrill in the sight of a rainbow on the beach in Hawaii that felt so close that we could touch it. I am reminded to be thankful that there is something else around the corner that will challenge me to be better, do better, grow and thrive in some way. Those are the good things and the reason I am here.

Grief sucks. Life doesn’t have to suck. (Somebody remind me of this later.)

I Love You, Riley.

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Speaking to Save a Life

November 8, 2015 / djuanadreed / 5 Comments

As the weather changes, as the brisk air chills me, as the beautiful colors of fall are around me, I feel like a zombie that stuck around from Halloween. I am staring ahead and putting one foot in front of the other with my arms stretched straight out guiding me to the next destination. All this while there is an ache that is heavy weighing down my heart. The ache does not let up. It hurts.

Perhaps it is the change of weather triggering the sense of the seasons of holidays ahead. Holidays are hard for those who are grieving the loss of a loved one. Perhaps it is one of the waves of intense grief that come and go. That happens. Perhaps it is those things and all of the speaking I have been doing telling Riley’s story.

To speak and tell Riley’s story takes strength in a new form for me. If you have ever heard me speak, I have a small “baby” voice. Yes, it is true. It has been my whole adult life that the phone rings, I answer and the sales person on the other end says, “Is your Mom home?” and my regular reply is, “I am the Mom.” I have to work to speak loud enough for the room to hear me.

I do not speak in front of people well. My mind gets jumbled. I cannot remember everything I would have written skillfully with purpose and order. I have no skill in speaking. I have quit worrying about skill- instead of trying to do it perfectly, I sit down and tell Riley’s story to the students. I talk to the teens as if they were in my home sitting on the couch with me. Mother mode is easy for me.

Mother mode also opens me up to feel for who I am talking to. I want to protect those precious lives in front of me.

To tell Riley’s story over and over is to relive my nightmare. To speak to the students as a mother who has lost her child to drugs, to beg for them to hear his story and make a different choice than Riley made is draining. It is an opportunity I am thankful for.

I want Riley’s death to not be in vain. My hope is that Riley’s story saves a life.

The impact of my telling his story has already shown as teens (both boys and girls) line up to hug me when I am done. Many step up to me with tears in their eyes. Some uncontrollably crying, telling me their experiences with drugs. This is the case often for the teens that are living with drugs and addiction in their family- these experiences have affected them deeply. Kids are coming into the counselors’ offices individually- needing to talk, to share, to ask for help.

If you have been following me over the last year, you may know about the purple WWRD (What Would Riley Do) bracelets that were made by Riley’s friends to wear and remember the unconditional love he gave to others. I have been handing them out to the students when I speak.

I share the original purpose of the bracelets because that is who Riley was. I also tell the students, I am hoping that when they look at the bracelet, they think to themselves, What Would Riley Do? Riley would say it’s not worth it. He was looking forward to college. He didn’t even get to walk across the stage and get that high school diploma. His life stopped at 18 because of trying a drug.

The bracelets have become something the students are embracing. If they didn’t get one, they are stopping in the counselor office and asking for one. Perhaps the bracelet gets thrown into a drawer, ends up under their bed or thrown into a jewelry box. Perhaps in the moment they need to remember Riley’s story, that person opens the drawer, finds it under the bed or inside the jewelry box and remembers a boy like them died by his choice to try a drug.

It is like playing russian roulette using drugs. You do not know what you have. Riley didn’t. There are too many stories to count of teens who have died using drugs for the first time. It only takes one try. If there isn’t death, there are teens in wheel chairs, half blind, in a hospital bed on a ventilator and many others are chained to drugs by addiction. Addiction ruins lives, is difficult to beat and all too often ends in death.

I HATE DRUGS. I hate that Riley is not here on this earth anymore because of them.

I wish I was making a phone call to Riley in his dorm at NAU to hear about his week. Instead I am looking out a window wrapped in a sweater with an aching heart. I am watching beautiful leaves of red, orange, yellow and brown fall to the ground in the breeze wondering how to have more opportunities to tell Riley’s story in hope to save a precious life. FullSizeRender

I LOVE YOU, Riley.

RILEY, MY SON, MY LOVE

October 4, 2015October 4, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Around my neck hangs a necklace with a silver charm that has Riley’s thumbprint on it. On the back of the charm is engraved: RILEY, MY SON, MY LOVE. When he was a baby, I rocked him while his head laid on my chest as he fell asleep. My heart was at peace with the warmth of my son in my arms. Today my heart aches in the absence of Riley, My son, My love. A cold charm of his thumb print lies on my chest in place of him.

That print of Riley’s thumb was taken from his cold and lifeless body. My son’s thumb… a part of his precious hand that I held whenever I got a chance which was not often enough as he grew taller than I. My son’s hand that I reached over and touched as we drove to get his wisdom teeth out. His hand that was laid out before me as I picked a splinter out of it while tears ran down his cheeks when he was eleven. His hand that I gripped tightly as we crossed the street when he was two. His hand with his tiny delicate fingers wrapped around my finger while I nursed him as an infant.

His hand that I will never feel or touch again.

The thumb that I kissed while tears streamed down his sweet three-year old cheeks when he touched something hot. The thumb he stuck out when he was seven as he stood on the sidewalk in front of our home with the intent of hitch hiking to go see the World Wrestling Federation Championship in Las Vegas. The thumb that strummed his guitar, touched the ivory of the piano keys, held a pencil in school, maneuvered a gaming controller, tapped on the computer keys, and the thumb that was raised in the air on that Christmas morning that he placed a new purple Dinosaur Jr. beanie on his head.

His thumb that I will never feel or touch again.

When I think of Riley, I find myself reaching down to put my thumb on the charm that holds his thumb print. As if I can reach him through that piece of silver. As if the creases of his thumbprint will absorb into the creases of my thumb so that somehow I am touching him again.

I cannot touch him again.

There is touch of a spouse, friend, sister, brother, but there is a special energy, a bond, a connection that moves from one hand to another between parent and child. I miss that bond of touch that Riley and I shared from his birth to his death. The memories span from when he was little and would run up to my leg to hug it to the hugs he gave me as a teen when he picked me up off my feet and held me tight.

That feeling, that touch, the Riley hug that I will never have again.

We use our hands while we are looking out for, protecting , soothing our children. The love we carry for our children is a sacred love that we do not give to anyone or anything else in this world quite the same. I raised Riley with all the knowledge I had yet the curiosity of a teenager got the best of him. He carefully held a tab of acid and placed it on his tongue at the beginning of that fatal night.

Drugs kill, maim, destroy people and their families. Using drugs is playing russian roulette. Teens need to know how little control or knowledge they have of what will happen next when they try a drug. Death happens to teens all too often on the first try of a drug.

Because of Riley’s decision to try a drug, he is gone from this earth. Riley’s touch is not reachable. I cannot get to him. I will never feel the touch of my son’s hand in mine again nor the feel of my love’s thumb wiping away my tears saying, “It’s okay, Mom”. It took only one fatal decision to end all of that and more.

Tell Riley’s story to someone perhaps it will save a life.

I Love You, Riley.

Always Be Yourself

May 18, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

Riley and his best buddy.

Batman to the rescue with a little Star Wars help.

Riley’s ID badge for his NAU tour

Batman didn’t want his picture taken.

One of the things Riley is remembered for is encouraging others to accept themselves. That it is okay to be different. To love what makes you, You.

One of my favorite stories about Riley (and there are many) is that a friend of his was having a bad day. She was upset. He said, “You need a hug.” She said, “I am too big, you can’t pick me up.” He proved her wrong. He picked her up and he hugged her. He lifted her up in more ways than one with that hug.

Always Be Yourself! Be proud to be the Superhero that you are!

I Love You, Riley.

Thank You For Sharing

June 4, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

THANK YOU for sharing Riley’s story. When I wrote that post, ‘I HATE DRUGS’ on Facebook the day after the incident, I was still in shock- well, I still am by all means in shock. Not sure that will ever go away. The rumors were already flying around within hours. I felt that I needed to share with my friends on Facebook as well as friends of Riley’s, what we knew of what had happened that night. As I wrote it, I didn’t hesitate, I laid it out there and did a call to action because that is how I felt. I wanted it out there so that the story stuck in people’s minds. So that other teens thought twice before trying a drug. I want the consequences of drug use front and center. From making one raw, personal post on Facebook, the story began to get shared. It reached Karina Bland who is a reporter for the Arizona Republic, the largest newspaper in Arizona. She felt led to share in the largest way she could- by writing an article. Low and behold the article made the front page of the Sunday paper and ya know what is amazing? As I’m writing this, there have been 10, 331 shares to Facebook from azcentral.com. That’s not counting the shares on Twitter, Linked in or by email. Karina said earlier in the day yesterday that 79,000 people had read the article from those shares. At that point there had been 7,000 Facebook shares from azcentral.com. As the shares have increased that means the reach of the article has increased as well………people are reading Riley’s story. People from all over and I mean, different states even Canada are messaging me telling me their personal stories of loss, their feelings as they have read the article, and their answer to my call to action to share the story. THANK YOU.

I received a message from a young man the same age as Riley, who just graduated from high school. He said he didn’t know or go to school with Riley, but they had a few friends in common, so he had heard Riley’s story somewhat through the grapevine. He saw one of his friends share the AZ Central story, and it caught his interest so he read it. He said he was in tears after reading it. He couldn’t even believe it. It had however changed his heart. A lot of his friends had been trying out acid, and had asked him to try it too. They told him it’s so much fun, and that it’s not dangerous at all. He said he was getting really close to doing it. He was even thinking about hanging with some friends and trying it this weekend and after reading my son’s story, he had decided that he will never ever touch the stuff. That he just wanted me to know that Riley changed his life. And he said, ” for that I am so thankful. Who knows what would’ve happened had I never read his story”. Did that give you goosebumps? It did me! It made tears fall down my cheeks. There it is! That is why I am sharing Riley’s story. That is why I am so thankful that you are sharing Riley’s story with whoever will listen because that share might be at the right time, in the right moment to change the path of a teen or an adult. I am going to venture to say that this stupid, horrific, all wrong story that I hate very much that it even exists could and will save a life. THANK YOU.

Thank you from Greg, Djuana, Bria, Braden & Riley.

10, 654 shares

I love you, Riley.

It Can’t Be True. Please God Don’t Let It Be True.

June 3, 2014January 30, 2015 / djuanadreed / 10 Comments

That morning, the day of Riley’s 18th birthday, a day full of Riley birthday plans and birthday wishes, I got a phone call that I couldn’t have imagined that I would ever receive. I hung up the phone and ran to my car. My body was shaking. I backed out, hands gripping the steering wheel tight. I started moving the car forward saying out loud, ” It can’t be true. He has it wrong. It can’t be true. Please God don’t let it be true“. I cried out loud and then I’d say it again, “It can’t be true. He has it wrong. It can’t be true. Oh God please don’t let it be true.” When I pulled up, there were firetrucks and ambulances and police cars lining the street. I got out of the car and felt like I was going to pass out. Police detectives walked up to me, Greg came up to me, we held each other as I sobbed, whaled, cried. It was true. He wasn’t wrong. God couldn’t tell me different. I sat on the curb and rocked back and forth while the officers were trying to talk to me, telling me what was going to happen next, giving me their condolences, their words of comfort. There was no comfort to be had. My baby boy was dead.

Our family paced, stared, cried, talked for the next few hours trying to make sense of it all until we found out about the drugs. Details of the evening started coming in. He had taken acid (LSD) – it was planned to celebrate his birthday. With a timeline among other consistent details from different sources, it was clear… it was drugs. The friends said it was his first time. They said he was happy at a certain point. They told him to call if he got into trouble, he did call…..they missed the call…..he was found shortly after. Riley had shot himself.

It doesn’t seem real sometimes still. I think of Riley often in normal activity moments (Mom moments) like what would he want from the grocery store or maybe I should get him those …….oh no he doesn’t need new shorts anymore or if I park in his spot, where will he……he won’t be parking his car in the driveway anymore. At the funeral, Bria and I came in, Braden and Greg were there in the family waiting area and I immediately did a head count and thought to myself, someone is missing. Of course someone was missing. I loved it when we were all together. As they get older, you almost have to schedule being all together. My most favorite times were always when all three kids were together in the same room bantering and telling stories. I didn’t dream this could happen. It never crossed my mind. Not this.

” In 2012, an estimated 23.9 million Americans aged 12 or older were current (past month) illicit drug users, meaning they had used an illicit drug during the month prior to the survey interview. This estimate represents 9.2 percent of the population aged 12 or older. Illicit drugs include marijuana/hashish, cocaine (including crack), heroin, hallucinogens, inhalants, or prescription-type psychotherapeutics (pain relievers, tranquilizers, stimulants, and sedatives) used nonmedically.” – See more at: http://www.drugwarfacts.org/cms/Drug_Usage#Overview

And we are at 2014 now, bet ya the numbers are higher not lower. Drugs kill. It is true. So so many lives have been lost because of drugs. I’m not wrong. It only takes one time, one try, one decision to have such horrific, wrong, permanent consequences. Please God help me share Riley’s story so that this isn’t true for another family.

**This post was written in June 2014. We are at 2015 now, 9 months since Riley died. I’ve learned that every 17 seconds a teenager tries a drug for the first time. I have seen so many stories of kids just like Riley who, on their first try of a drug, died. The LSD he had was bought online by the high school age dealer at his school. The amount of LSD in that one tab according to the toxicology report was way way way more than he was told. My kid was like your kid -a smart kid, band kid, choir kid, good with computers, lovable kid, loved music, played guitar, liked coffee, made strangers smile, accepted to college, happy go lucky, Riley tried a drug and died. Tell your kids it can happen. It only takes one time.

I love you, Riley.