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.

Play Your Guitar For Me

July 10, 2014 / djuanadreed / 3 Comments

It is late at night in a house in the woods in Kentucky. There are these awesome little bugs here that are called fireflies. They are a wonder. They blink. There are butterflies of all shapes and colors that come sit on my shoulder or stick to my pant leg. Everything is so very green here. I took a walk yesterday and came across a family of deer standing in my path. One big one turned around and stared at me for the longest time. I stood still and stared back. As I walked, a bull frog hopped across my path and crossed over to the other side. A hawk flew over my head searching for prey. The stars shine bright at night in the pitch blackness with no street lights. There are sounds in the woods that I don’t recognize. I wonder what I am hearing. I know there are coyote out there leering. I am thankful for Koda, the Doberman that stands watch near me. There are daddy-long-legs walking about and spiders sitting in webs. Nature is beautiful. Laying in the hammock in the shade under a tree with the breeze blowing is heavenly. God made this place. I am thankful to be here.

I am here, but my head is not here a lot of the time. I smile and hold pleasant conversation. I laugh at times. I find wonder in the little things around me and then I sink again to the pit of my grief for my son, my love, my Riley. I love him so much. He was my sweet baby boy. I don’t know how this could have happened. I don’t know how he truly can be gone. I listen to the stories about Riley that come from adults as well as his peers. I hear stories about how he changed their lives by the things he did, what he said, by his smile and his demeanor. That was My boy. He was a wonder in so many ways. His intelligence. His laugh. His musical talents. His computer skills. He effected many lives in a good positive way by just being Riley daily. Why did this have to happen? Someone please tell me.

Sitting and listening to someone playing an acoustic guitar makes me think of Riley strumming on his. I think of how I would stop whatever I was doing and listen to him play. I would be washing dishes and would stop, dry my hands and plop down at the kitchen table to listen. The tears well up in my eyes at the thought. It was a gift he gave me when he played his guitar and he didn’t even realize it. Sometimes he’d walk through the living room, stop at the electric guitar, turn the amp way up and play and I’d think, I like the acoustic guitar much better. I’m showing my age I fear with that statement. There was a time where he goofed around with the piano. He’d pick a song to play and mess with it without any music til he got it right. How about the time he decided that he needed to buy an organ, saved his money and sold a couple of his personal things to go buy a used one from a little old man. Watching him sing in the high school choir brought me such joy.

Tonight dinner was breakfast for dinner. I thought about the things I do with eggs and then the breakfasts I made which led me to think about what kid of mine liked what and then I cried. Riley memories make me cry. The memories of things I can’t have again that create silent tears rolling down my cheeks while my bottom lip quivers. I try to not hold the tears back but I probably need a walk in the woods to release some wales of crying to cleanse a little. It is not right to have to live without your child. It’s just not right. My sweet baby boy is gone and I can’t do anything about it.

Riley come back and play your guitar for me. I’ll make you some eggs. Please?

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.

A Colorful Sky

July 4, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Fourth of July is one of my most favorite holidays. This holiday means red, white and blue, a family gathering, a cook out, homemade ice cream, and colorful explosions of fireworks in the sky. I have vivid memories of being in the back of my Dad’s pick up truck parked up on Hole in the Rock at Papago Park watching the fireworks. After dinner, Mom made homemade ice cream every year. It was a noisy old electric ice cream maker. She would set up on the walk way outside of the back door of our house with blocks of ice, an ice pick and a bag of rock salt. The ice cream maker turned and turned with a hum. The salty water ran out of the side of the ice cream maker to the grass. We anxiously waited and watched until the first batch was done so that we could each get a bowl full. There’s nothing else like sweet, cold homemade ice cream. Hot summers in Arizona in July scream for ice cream.

I have pictures of Bria, Braden and Riley dressed in red, white and blue outfits for Fourth of July. Yes, I was one of those moms. I wish I was home to dig through pictures for a picture of all three kids dressed up to celebrate the day. I think I let that part of the tradition of Fourth of July go before Riley got much older than preschool age. The things we moms put our kids through. Okay I’ll speak for myself, ‘Oh the things I put my kids through’. Bria’s first Fourth of July we put her down on the grass to stand. She freaked out over the feel of grass on her bare feet. She cried as she drew her legs up. That was a new experience for her as a baby. I am about grabbing new experiences at this point in my life and I am doing pretty well at it. It is the simple things that happen or become available to me to experience that are the best.

Riley must have had an idea that he needed a new experience on his 18th birthday. His idea that a drug could do what something else could have bugs the heck out of me. He had many new experiences ahead starting with being an 18 year old along with many more moments of high school graduation and stepping onto NAU’s campus. He missed out on dorm life, floundering in college, a career, being married, having babies that I as a Grandma could have dressed up in red, white and blue for this holiday. That’s just a few of the major experiences that could have been ahead for him. My body instantly reacts with a jump every time I think of the last few seconds of his life. I hate the thought more than you can imagine. His last experience.

I want to enjoy Fourth of July this year. I will be thinking of the times with Riley that he and I sat together looking up at the fireworks. I want to enjoy the new and also familiar experiences of Fourth of July this year. Riley said to me very recently that he missed Grandma’s cooking. My Mom died over 5 years ago. I like the thought of them being together now. Tonight Riley and my Mom could reminisce about making homemade ice cream while they sit in their extra special seat to view fireworks. I think colorful fireworks in the sky just took on a whole new meaning to me. I’ll miss the sweet homemade ice cream intensely this year. I will miss my sweet baby boy even more.

I love you, Riley.

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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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