There’s No Rewriting History

May 11, 2015May 12, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

I lost a blog that I spent all afternoon pouring myself into. I spent hours on it and when I went to save it, I lost it completely. No drafts available. No automatic saves appear. It’s as if I didn’t even type at all today. Nothing. It’s gone. I used great vocabulary and symbolism. It was a good one. I was happy with it and about ready to publish it.

Can I describe it again? Maybe. Can I rewrite it like it was? No. Do I want to drag all the feelings and thoughts up to try again? No! I don’t think so. I don’t think I can reproduce it again from scratch with the heart and soul I put into it in the moment.

Note to self: Remember to push ‘Save Draft’.

In frustration, I got up from my computer, drug my hammock out to the middle of my grass. I laid flat in the cool evening air staring up at the moon lit cloud ridden sky. I was there to relax after spilling all that out about Riley and my grief. As soon as I laid down and looked up, I thought of Riley. It didn’t take long until my bottom lip started quivering. I let it out- loudly. I cried. I let the sobs and screams pour out of me right there with the bugs buzzing and the mysterious critters out there in the dark watching me. I wish I could see past the clouds to see Riley. What I would give to see him again. Touch him again. Laugh with him again. I cannot.

Note to you: Remember to push ‘Save Draft’. We can’t rewrite history. Make it count.

Don’t take anything for granted. None of it. Savor every moment with your child. That includes the uncomfortable and hard times. The moments of disappointment. The fun times. The awe moments. The sad moments. The proud moments. The scary moments. The still and quiet moments. The rush of life moments. Enjoy their firsts and their lasts. Enjoy the joy and laughter together. All of these make up your relationship, they help you know your child better…they are the memories you can’t make again.

Take your job as parent seriously- don’t let up. Make sure you are Preaching it. Teaching it. Sharing it. Whether they act like they are listening or not, say it. Ask the question whether they roll their eyes at you and give you that look. Be the example. If you expect it from your child you best be doing the same.

Ya know Riley was an amazing kid. Gifted. Talented. Smart. Full of potential. He made this world better by being in it. What did I miss? He made a bad decision. I can’t do anything differently. I can’t go back. The memories and moments are all I have now. We can’t make more together.

One of my memories is a little song I sang to my kids when they were little. My Mom sang it to me. It always produced a giggle. It goes, “Head bumper, eye winker, tom tinker, nose smeller, mouth eater, chin chopper and a gitty gitty gitty goo.” I am remembering Riley’s eyes opened wide at what I was saying when touching his nose smeller and his laugh when he was tickled with the gitty gitty gitty goo. I miss his smile with the dimple in his left cheek just like mine.

I want to have another shot at an argument with him. I can make my point better now. I want to finish ten conversations that we started. I think to tell him things. He’s not there. I have so many questions I wish I could ask. Simple ones…What do you like best about___? What is your favorite____? I cannot ask now.

I want to tell him what I know now about the drugs that are out there. What I know now about LSD. I want to have that conversation about legalizing marijuana again. I want to have said something different the night we talked about drugs just days before he died. I gave him the information that I had at the time. I assumed we were on the same page. He said we were. He lied. We weren’t. It’s too late to make my points stronger, better, to try to change his mind though I didn’t know what he was thinking at the time.

We can’t go back. We can’t rewrite history. We can’t change the outcome. We as parents can only do our best with the knowledge we have. Make sure you have accurate and current knowledge. Do your homework about drugs and drug use. Know about the risks of addiction and talk about it with your teens. Know what you are talking about. Share it with your teens. Watch for the signs of drug use.

Hug and kiss your kids. Enjoy them to the fullest. Tell them you love them. Live in the moment for that moment may be all you have.

I Love You, Riley.

Happy Birthday Riley

May 4, 2015 / djuanadreed / 10 Comments

View of Lake Cumberland

Today is May 3rd, Riley’s ‘should have been’ 19th birthday. It is also the one year anniversary of his death. My experience with the first holidays and dates of significance since his death is that the anticipation of the day is worse than the day when I get to it. Not this one. The dread during the months before, the week before, the day before has been rough. Today has been heart wrenching with a flood of emotions pouring out of me. I miss him. I want him here on earth with me.

If I had my wish, I would be in Arizona sitting at his home away from home, a coffee shop called Coffee Rush. This is where he could be found any given day. He had his favorite spot to sit which was at a table on the outside patio facing the window. There he could see the reflection of the lake that laid behind him while he had a clear view of who was coming into the shop. I bask in stories told about my son. I want more of them. He truly affected those he came into contact with. Being there today I would be able to be surrounded with stories and laughter.

I needed a plan to get through today. I wanted to do something bright on such a dark day. I decided to hit the road to see something I hadn’t seen yet. The list was long of possible places to go to see for the first time. I chose to drive to Lake Cumberland State Park. It was over an hour from my cabin. A perfect day of 78 degrees…I put Bert in the car, rolled down the windows, opened the sunroof, turned Riley’s favorite music on and drove.

Once you turn off the highway, there is a 5 mile curvy tree lined road that leads to the lake and marina. Bert and I stopped at a scenic view on the way and there it was, the view of Lake Cumberland, it was breath taking. Curious to see what else the area had to offer, we continued down to the marina to take more pictures. We found a narrow trail that took us across little wooden bridges that hovered over slow running creeks. The trail wound around old trees and was surrounded by thick vegetation. That is what I needed today. I was breathing in and out, tears were falling as I thought of Riley yet I was enjoying my surroundings. I had to keep moving.

On our way out of the park, Bert and I stopped again at the scenic spot that we saw on the way in. I had brought a vile of Riley’s ashes with me. I had not spread any yet since moving here. I debated whether I was prepared to part with them. It had to feel right. I thought today is his birthday, maybe today was the time to let some of it go. I wasn’t sure that I was ready. I sat there. I contemplated. I looked over and saw a tree that stood tall reaching up to the sky. The tree had a clear view of the water. I stared at the tree’s trunk and thought about Riley’s thoughts on the concept of a tree of life. I looked at the water knowing Riley loved the water. I knew he would find wonder in this spot. I imagined what he would be saying if he were sitting quietly next to me taking in the view with me.

That is Riley’s tree now.

I took a deep determined breath and put Riley at the base of the tree. It was now a tree of life. I imagined that Riley’s ashes might soak into the ground and feed the tree. The tree would represent Riley looking out onto the water standing tall and proud. The tree’s beauty reflected in the blue sky. I sat there for what seemed like a long time.

As I sat there, a yellow Monarch butterfly flew around me. It circled me. A second one appeared and they flitted here and there, around the tree, around me, into the grass, and up into the sky. I tried to take a picture, they wouldn’t stay still. The butterflies were a confirmation to me that Riley belonged in this spot for alot of reasons. My aching heart took a rest in that moment.

As I started to pull away and head home, the butterfly reappeared in the view of my back window. I wanted to jump out of the car and stay longer. I didn’t. I pushed my foot down on the gas pedal and slowly pulled away. I have to keep moving.

Riley had a favorite spot at Coffee Rush near the water with a view of people that he treasured. He now is in a spot on a mountain side in Kentucky overlooking water with a beautiful view. I am sad that Riley is not here with me on earth to hold, touch, kiss and laugh with. I believe he is in a better place with no pain or sorrow, but true peace. I’m counting on it.

Look at the purple in the light on the tree in this photo! Riley’s favorite color.

Happy Birthday, Riley. Rest in peace my child until we meet again.

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.

The Stark Reality of Grief

April 24, 2015April 24, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

Grief is individual. I am alone in this. Some people may not understand that statement. Unfortunately those who have lost a child do understand it. It is a lonely walk with many people standing all around me waiting to hug, help, ease my pain, yet I cannot receive help on this matter. There is no way I can help you understand what it is like. If you do understand, I am sorry.

I carried Riley in my womb for 9 months. Attached by an umbilical cord he grew within me. While he was growing, I ate the right foods, slept, and was careful to take care of myself in order to grow a healthy baby boy. When I pushed him out into this world, he took a breath and cried. I nursed him. I woke to his cry at night. I rocked him for hours upon hours. I slept with him in my arms.

Riley is and will forever be a part of me. Often I imagine him in my arms, cradling him tightly as I fall asleep. At 17, he towered over me in height and size. I couldn’t pick him up anymore. He picked me up off my feet and held me instead. With the loss of Riley on this earth there is an empty crater that will remain empty. The loss of Riley is felt by many. Their grief is their own.

He was a part of me as I was a part of him. Being a boy, he wanted to be like his Dad. He was so much like his Dad. He and his sister were like a comedy routine together jousting back and forth with words and phrases that sometimes only they understood. He and his brother were bound together as brothers. This was apparent when irritating each other in their bunk beds at night or when they were ganging up on their big sister. He will always be with us in our hearts. We will always cry for him.

The stark reality of how individual grief is has hit me hard. Since the day that he died, I have been waiting to grieve with the other half of him, his adult brother and sister yet it has not happened like I ached for it. They must walk this walk the way they need to. Their grief is individual. There is no right or wrong. There are stages. There are ups and downs. They will find their own solace and their own way of handling their pain. The memories that make me smile don’t always make them smile, but make them cry instead. The photos that warm me can’t be shared with a sure feeling that they will receive them in a moment they can handle the memory. I wait to be held by someone who feels it like I feel it, but it doesn’t come. There is not anyone that feels my loss like I do.

Family and friends consistently try. They ask, “What can I do for you?” My answer is always, “Nothing.” I can’t think of anything that might make me feel better. It is an empty hole, an ache that grips and runs rampant through my whole body. My heart aches, hurts, pounds like it is reaching out for him and then my heart feels lifeless within me. I cannot reach him. He is gone.

As I sat alone in my apartment the day after the funeral waiting for the promised call to come be with family that never came, I realized I was on my own. There, in that moment, I started to realize I must get through this for Riley. Without my youngest son on this earth, I can still get up, stand up and keep moving as hard as it is sometimes. I can make my way through this maze of pain, of loss, of a changed life. I can hold on to my love for him. I can fight for other teen’s lives. I can fight for mine.

Riley tried LSD for the first time on his 18th birthday. He was about to graduate from high school. He was accepted to Northern Arizona University. He was in love with a girl who loved him back. He could be found almost every day of the week at Coffee Rush sitting with old friends or making new ones. The LSD was bought online by the dealer who was a peer of his. Riley thought he had bought a certain amount, the tab was loaded with so much LSD that the medical examiner said he had not seen that high of an amount in one body in the 30 years of doing his job. In the horrors at the end of his acid trip, Riley took a gun and shot himself. In an unconscious pull of a trigger, my baby boy was gone.

Riley had consequences that he never considered. It was his choice to try a drug. My motivation to tell Riley’s story in my grief is that teens hear the message which is It can happen. It is absolutely not worth the try. Riley lost a future of experiences, milestones and memories for both of us. As I walk this walk, I will continue to tell his story in hope that it will be shared to help turn a teen away from risking the fate Riley suffered. Life is precious…….. even the grieving kind.

I Love You, Riley.

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.

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.