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.

Meeting Eternity

January 19, 2015January 19, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

I’ve joined a closed group on Facebook called GRASP- Grief Recovery After a Substance Passing. The group exists for those that have lost a loved one as the result of substance abuse or addiction. The group is very large. Way too large. People post about their grief, their confusion, questions, anger, sadness. Often they post the date of when their loved one passed. This makes you realize how many have died because of drugs. How many died last week, last month, last year, two years ago, ten years ago. Even the date that Riley died has shown up.

People show support for each other in their grief, in their anger at the drug…heroine is one of the biggest culprits or a mix of opiates, but the common factor is death by a drug. I have realized that I really hate death. Before this, I had a belief that death was part of the circle of life. We come, we go. We live, we die. We are born into this world and we are to leave this world. Right now, death means an end to a life that I hold precious. That life of my child I want selfishly with me- here to touch, kiss, hug, talk to .

When children and young adults die, it is tragic. It is a life not finished. Riley made a huge impact on the lives around him. I would not have ever known the extent of how he touched lives if he was still alive. The stories told at the memorial that his classmates put together, the adults pulling me aside to tell me how he touched them and the private messages I have received give me a glimpse of Riley at a peer level -what he was like when he was not home and in my view. He was jovial and gave away hugs. He caused others- many strangers- to smile as he passed them in the hall of school just by his warm, goofy, what’s up smile. He stood up for the girl being bullied. He entertained a classroom. He brought on challenging conversations with teachers. He changed lives. He talked more than one from committing suicide. He helped a girl get through a teen pregnancy by being supportive and assuring her she could do this. He dried tears by diverting sad thoughts to better thoughts. To the boy who was an outsider, he showed him he should accept himself and how precious he is just as he is. Riley changed lives. Death took him from us at age 18. Too soon! Just imagine what else he would have done with his life…I can’t imagine now. There is no imagination to it. His life was stopped. My imagination of his future has stopped.

I read a post by a woman recently, a grandmother who is dying from cancer. She is facing her own death after losing her adult son to drugs. She expressed such dignity and grace about what she is facing right now. I am impressed. She is close to being reunited with her son yet she is holding on to the time she has here, now. She used the word eternity and it has made me think about the afterlife, the hereafter, everlasting life, where we go, what happens there. The bible says. The pastor says. We hope. We have faith that we will see our child again in a better place. A Heaven that holds no sorrow or pain. Timelessness.

I am in timelessness now. I forget appointments. I sit for hours without realizing it has been hours. There are moments I wish for death myself. Now. The pain, the loss I feel, how part of my heart is gone and it won’t come back or be replaced. Grief is an unyielding pain. There are days, sometimes even more than one in a row, that I am able to do okay and focus on work or something I am writing or yard work or how someone has really pissed me off, but then I sit still and remember… my sweet baby boy is gone. He has met his eternity.

So as I ponder the grace and dignity this woman shows while she faces meeting her eternity with the faith that she will see her son again, I would like to be able to face my life as it is now, without my son here to touch again, with grace and dignity until I meet my eternity. Knowing there are no guarantees of how long we have on this earth. Knowing that if I can make a difference while I am able to write and share Riley’s story. If I can muster my passion of working with abused and neglected children in the court system again. If I can create a children’s book with a purple elephant named Riley that leaves his paw print wherever he goes. If I can simply share a smile with a stranger like my boy did, then I’m doing pretty good. One single step at a time.

I Love You, Riley.

The Chair

January 5, 2015 / djuanadreed / 7 Comments

Here I sit at my desk, in my office, looking out my window at a winter day in Kentucky. I haven’t left the cabin in two days and am still in my pajama bottoms. This is where I pictured myself writing when I bought the cabin. I kinda feel like I finally made it to this spot. The furniture has been in my garage for months and the desk is very heavy so I had to wait for help to get it in here. My office is cluttered and very unorganized. But the desk is where I dreamed it to be. I’m sitting in Riley’s chair. It still smells like him. He lived in this chair sitting at his desk listening to music, playing music on his guitar- heck he learned to play guitar from this chair. He gamed on the computer, did homework and even when friends were over, they were often gathered around him in his chair looking at the computer and listening to music. If Riley was home and awake, he most likely was in this chair at his desk.

When I first brought it into the cabin, I rolled it into the middle of the family room, sat sideways in it and twirled it around and around. I put my nose to the back of the chair and breathed in his scent. I ran my hands along the arm rests and felt the wear and tear on them where his arms laid once upon a time. I tried to feel Riley. It has that chair sound. You know, that creak not a squeak when you lean back in it. There’s a bit of cat hair from his cat, J (named after Dinosaur Jr’s lead singer, J Mascis) tucked in where the back of the chair meets the seat. I think I’ll tuck it back in there. I told him “No” every time he asked for a cat then one day, we were looking at horse property and there was a stray kitten. After the second time of seeing the kitten at that property, I said “Let’s take it home” and we did and we gave him to Riley. That was a happy day for Riley.

Now I am writing about Riley from his chair. I sure wish he was still in it. All the times I tracked up the stairs to talk to him while he sat in this chair. I brought him medicine when he was sick and laid it in front of him on his desk. I sat quietly next to him listening as he played his guitar. I yelled from another room, “What’s the name of that song?” when I heard something he was listening to that I liked. I talked to him while he sat in this chair. Sometimes hard conversations. Sometimes it was Do you have homework? How was your day? conversations.

In the early morning hours of the day he died, some time after he had taken the LSD, he wrote the following from this chair. It appeared just like this.

May 3, 2014

i remember what joy feels like

i now know what it means

what it means to be happy

i swear

i figured it out

i’ve been waiting all my life

it’s happening

guh

i can’t stop smiling

acid

Several hours later, Riley made a phone call seeking help. They didn’t answer. I have been told you can think an acid trip is gone and it can come back with intensity. A trip can go bad. He typed a text message to a girl across the country in reply to her Happy Birthday message to him, saying “On Acid” then another right after, “Halp” (spelled just like that). Not long after that, he shot himself. The toxicology report says, he died from the gunshot wound. The medical examiner added “Note: The findings and totality of the circumstances in this gentleman’s case indicate his injury was self-inflicted. However, in light of the high concentrations of the hallucinogen LSD in his blood, in my opinion , the manner of death is best classified as undetermined.” You see Riley thought he bought a tab of 185 mcg of acid which the dealer bought online. The dealer being a high school kid- same school, same choir. The tab actually contained 950 mcg- that amount in one body was more than the medical examiner had seen in the 30 yrs of doing his job.

The drug dealer still deals drugs. The company still sells its drugs online. Kids are still buying drugs and experimenting with them. Riley won’t ever sit in this chair again.

Kids are dying from drugs. How do we stop this? I ask. How many more parents will lose a child by a drug? It only takes one time.

I HATE DRUGS.

I Love You, Riley.

It’s Snowing!

November 19, 2014November 23, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

It is snowing. There was no grace period. One day it was sunny and working outside weather and the next it is cold and I am scrambling to layer up to stay warm. I am sitting by the window watching this light fluffy white stuff float down and stick to the ground. The green grass is slowly turning white. I will have to take Bert out in it today. Bert came out of Pennsylvania as a pure bred Bouvier puppy. He hasn’t seen snow since he was 8 weeks old. He is 6 now. He was definitely hot in Arizona always looking for cold spots on the tile to lay. With his furry coat, he is equipped to be in the snow. Already as the weather has changed to cold, he has been out in the yard laying in it when I am bundled up shivering. As I get acclimated to the cold and wonder if I am going to be able to handle being cold, he seems to be saying, “Finally I am comfortable, bring it on. ”

I have never started over in a new place before. I am not comfortable yet. I wonder how long it will take til I am for I know this is where I should be. I am very uncomfortable when I think of Riley. For me, time is not something that makes the pain less. I cry more. I ache for him more. I work harder at diverting my thoughts to get through those moments, minutes, hours, days of pain. I am not very good at diverting right now.

Too often these days I wake up and immediately start to cry. Riley is now in my dreams. He hadn’t reached them yet until now. I see him walking into a room with his soft blonde hair flowing as he moves. I see his face with that grin he had. I hear people patting him on the back and chatting with him. He looks at me with that twinkle in his eye. I can almost smell him. I hug him in my dreams and feel his soft skin. We have short conversations like we did, like he is still here. It feels so good to see, hear and touch him. It is like it should be. Just like it was. I wake and only reality is here with me. He is not here anymore. And it hurts. It hurts real bad. It is a stabbing ache of an empty space without him.

I love my boy with all of my heart, well what is left of my heart. There is a chunk of my heart gone now. I hold that stuffed dog which was not a favorite stuffed animal of his. It is just a soft dog that I bought him one year that sat on a shelf for years. I grabbed it and kept it with me because it was something to hold when I am sad and missing him. I have a broken leather belt loop that I hold too, a guitar pick, a rock he had saved sits by my sink with the other rocks the kids had gathered and given me over the years. Two of the rocks are naturally shaped like hearts. Handed to me by my children as a treasure found. I hold the rocks randomly. I pass Riley’s picture, touch it and tell him that I love him. Sometimes I wail and cry hard. Sometimes I cry softly letting the tears fall down my cheeks.

As I watch my news-feed on Facebook, I see more stories of young adults who have died from drugs. I feel for their parents. I know the pain and anger that they feel. My sweet baby boy is gone and each day it gets harder. My strength decreases with time. My stamina deteriorates and I wonder how I will survive the loss of my son. Even when I declare that I will survive, there are moments I don’t care if I do. Then I remember this happened for a reason and I will make the most of this tragedy to help others. I must.

As Bert digs his nose in the snow trying to figure out what this fluffy white stuff is, I dig my nose in to figure out life without my son. This experience is not fluffy or white, it is hard, dark and just plain unwanted. I had no grace period. One day Riley was here and the next he was not. I do not think, Bring it on! I think, Can’t we go back? One step at a time, I go on. One stinking step at a time.

I will continue to share Riley’s story in hope that his story will steer a person in a different direction then to try drugs. Riley was a good kid that made a bad decision. That’s usually how it begins.

I love you, Riley.

Clean Sheets

September 27, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

One week from today I am hitting the road and moving to Kentucky. I have purchased my very own log cabin in the woods to write in. As I get ready to leave, I am savoring the heat of Arizona summer and the convenience of McDonald’s french fries being a hop, skip and a step away. There’s a list of things, relationships, feelings, smells, sights I have soaked in as I know it all changes soon. I am a third generation native of Arizona and this is all I know. I picked a place that holds new and different experiences ahead. I am up for the challenge! Yet while I am here, I have had some hard tasks.

One of those is going through Riley’s pictures, school projects and papers that I had saved over the years. There have been many smiles as I pull things from boxes and files. Like this one which I absolutely love!

I also feel the sadness of seeing pictures of Riley as a baby and realizing at the moment the picture was taken, there was a promise of a life that would last to an old age. I counted on that. I assumed it. I dreamed of what his life would be like. I smile when I see the ‘I love you’s’ written to me from him over the years. From preschool age to 17, there are notes and messages telling me what I say to him daily.

If that hasn’t been hard enough, cleaning his room for the last time took a big toll on me. I finished it yesterday. Alot of tears have been shed in the last 48 hours being in that room. Alot of talking to Riley has happened. Mostly I tell him to please come back and that he should be here. In the last almost 5 months since he died, I have taken naps on his bed and laid there hugging his pillows. I have stood in the middle of the room and looked around for long periods of time absorbing the feel of his space and how he made it that. You can see what he loved in the space of his bedroom.

Now it was time to clean it up. The first task was to strip the bed and wash the sheets and comforter. His smell is gone now. I had buried my head in his pillows and cried over the past months. Now the sheets and comforter have a clean smell to them. That’s a familiar smell too but still, the last time he laid in that bed is gone. There were still dirty towels and the shorts he wore that night on the floor. I washed those too. It felt like a goodbye as I put them in the washer.

On his dresser there were tuxedo shirt buttons that I missed when I returned his choir outfits in May. Many times I had gathered those and made sure he had them for a choir concert. There were pens, pencils, concert stubs, receipts and a lot of dust. There was a receipt for dinner where he had taken his girlfriend on prom night only a week before he died and a short Golfland pencil that he had used to keep score when they went goofy golfing after prom. There were guitar picks sat on shelves, his desk and by his bed. Loose change, empty glasses, school passes and broken sunglasses. I picked these things up and organized them in a cup of change, a cup of pencils and pens. I threw away things like the broken sunglasses though even that was hard since they had touched his face at one time. He started wearing this exact style of sunglasses at a very young age! Look what I found!

I also found a treasure in a shoe box in Riley’s closet. His WWF wrestlers had been safely tucked away. Oh how Riley and his best friend, Ryan loved everything to do with WWF. He had a plastic wrestling ring and a pretend champion belt. I heard, “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!” in my head as I held the plastic figures in my hand. I can picture Riley’s joy and I’m up to something grin as he and Ryan were running up and down the stairs playing and doing little boy things. We did have to keep an eye on those two!

The things that I have collected from his room to take with me remind me of parts of him. His gray and purple Vans that used to sit at the bottom of the stairs, an ASU sweatshirt I bought him to remind him of my alma mater knowing he was going to go to NAU. I have a guitar pick, books, his tuba mouthpiece, a rock he had saved along with all kinds of random tiny small things that were held by him at one point in time that will surely bring a smile and a tear to my eye in the days, months, years to come. I can pull them out when I need them. I have this sense of did I get everything I want to take with me? How do I pick the physical things that represent Riley as I leave? Did I get what I need? I’m not sure. The most precious and important things are in my head. That goes with me wherever I go.

As I finished dusting and vacuuming Riley’s room for the very last time with the sad realization that he is not going to come home and mess it all up, I stood back, looked at the clean space in front of me, cried a little more then took a deep breath. One step in front of the other! Just one step at a time is all that is needed. That I can do.

I Love You, Riley.

← Back