A Roller Coaster Ride

Roller Coaster- Choir Trip

Joy! Roller Coaster Ride, Choir Trip 2014

The pattern of Grief is a roller coaster ride. You never know what is coming day-to-day. There are good weeks and there are terribly bad weeks. I have recently made it through some of those terribly bad weeks that came with the one year anniversary of Riley’s death in May. I have moved into a feeling of numb but I am functioning. I am trying to recoop. I am trying to live. Once you go through one of the stages of grief, it doesn’t mean that you won’t ever feel it again. This I have learned. You might visit stages out of order, skip one, come back to another and repeat. My grief is not going anywhere. This I know.

IMG_6845This past weekend I attended The Great American Brass Band Festival in Danville, Kentucky. I took my chair and I planted myself on the grass with my camera in hand. What I saw around me were people of all ages eating ice cream, drinking drinks listening to music while sitting on the lawn. The stage was a gazebo. The backdrop was an old brick building, green grass, trees, pretty flowers with the sun going down and the fireflies blinking. As the bands played, children waved around light sticks. The patrons Moms, Dads, children danced close to the stage to the brass music from the bayou. The weather was perfect. The music was wonderful. Laughter echoed around me. I was thoroughly enjoying myself.

Staring at the band, I focused on the tuba player. Oh, so innocently, I thought… Riley would like this event. And there the sharp edge of grief snuck in. It crept straight to my eyes and they puddled. It leaked into my heart and it ached. It was a quick thought that turned into a slump of my shoulders, a limpness of my extremities and a squeeze of my heart. The joy of the moment was instantly replaced.

You see, Riley was a band kid. He had moved from the saxophone to the tuba his sophomore year of high school. He played the tuba well just like every other instrument he took interest in. On Friday nights, we sat in the stands at the football games to hear him play. Over the years we sat in the seats of the Chandler Center for the Arts for his orchestra concerts. I volunteered in the band’s booster club. Band was a part of Riley.

IMG_7070This being a brass band event, I noticed a lot of saxophones and sousaphones (tubas) in the parade the next day. That didn’t make me cry. I wasn’t crying all weekend. It’s just those moments that all of a sudden grab you and yank you down. Like on a trip to the grocery store I was in the frozen food aisle, I saw a frozen pizza made with white sauce and a memory of having dinner with Riley at a restaurant came to mind. He ordered pizza with white sauce. The instant memory of conversation and laughter during dinner that night hit me straight on. That evening we spent together eating pizza was not long before he died. It was a good night.

So in the middle of the store, in a split second my mind went from what do I need at the grocery store to Riley. The tears welled up in my eyes, they sneaked down my cheeks while I stared blindly at a cold glass door thinking about my dead son that I will never share pizza with again. People walked around me as I continuously wiped each tear until the tears ceased and then I resumed my hunt for the next item on the list.

The realization that this is my life is in my face. I will forever have thoughts of my son and subsequent tears. Riley was lost by a first time try of LSD bought online. My youngest boy who had a whole life ahead of him of college and a future is gone by a decision to mess with a drug.  This is my life now because of his decision and the consequences of it.

I am me, but I am not me anymore. It’s like rediscovering life with a hole in my heart. It is trudging through the poop, the waste, the knee-high water that rises in front of me. Like a tide it disappears and reappears. This is grief. It is my life in the absence of my son who was a part of me.

I miss that part of me so very much. I am here living this altered life I didn’t ask for. What I ask is that my grief not be in vain. That the loss this world has suffered by Riley not being in it anymore be a story to be told to young adults who are and will be faced with the decision to try a drug. It is what keeps me telling Riley’s story. It is what has nailed me to the seat of the ups and downs on this roller coaster ride. It is my hope that lives are saved by my speaking out.

I Love You, Riley.

A Story No Parent Wants To Hear

Prom Photo- one week before Riley died.

Prom photo taken one week before Riley died.

A year ago, on June 1st, 2014, an article was published on the front page of the Sunday edition of The Arizona Republic Newspaper written by Karina Bland, a well known Arizona journalist. She wrote the article telling Riley’s story through her eyes as she read the very first post that I did on Facebook the day after Riley died, I HATE DRUGS!  I didn’t skip a beat, I screamed as loud as I could in my pain asking my friends to tell Riley’s story. I wrote it like I felt it. I told the facts as I knew them.

It was a nightmare that first day. It is an ongoing nightmare one year later. I held on for a long time that maybe I would wake up. That it wasn’t true. That Riley would walk around the corner and say, “Hi Mom”. That I would breath again. After a year of holding my breath, I’m sure it’s true. This is real and nothing will bring Riley back.

Riley is still with us in our hearts and memories. He is changing lives by his fate of trying a drug for the first time. I hate that! But if his story saves someone else from his fate then that’s a good thing in the midst of all the bad.

In the months of June and July, the use of drugs and alcohol spikes. Now is the time to share Riley’s story. The message to teens is: You are not invincible. It can happen. It can happen even on the first try. You don’t know what you are taking, smoking, drinking, inhaling. You can’t know how it will effect you. That curiosity, that temptation to try it is not worth the gamble of your life.

That’s what Riley would say.

I say, I HATE DRUGS!!

I Love You, Riley

The Parent’s Reach

430023_3460963532894_988690135_n As responsible parents, we set out to keep our children safe, happy, and healthy. We bundle them up in cold weather before they step out the door. We slather them with sunscreen on hot days by the pool. We make sure they do their homework, have their seat belts on, get a good night’s rest, eat their vegetables, and lecture them on everything from “Don’t touch it’s hot” to “Drugs are bad for you”. I did that. I watched over my children like a hawk. They were my job. I took my job seriously working at it 7 days a week/24 hours a day. I was ready and waiting to spot a need I should fill in my pursuit to keep my children safe, happy and healthy.

I missed something. I do not know what I could have done different. Riley was healthy and happy. I thought I had done everything within my power to keep him safe. I think that I did.

Known for his Hawaiian shirts, purple vans, long blonde hair, acoustic guitar, warm smile and big bear hugs- he knew no strangers. He left lasting impressions with whomever he met by his whimsical demeanor and love for intense conversation about music, religion, politics and philosophy. Riley was smart. He was a computer guru. He was raised in a Christian home. He attended a Christian grade school. He was about to graduate from high school. He had been accepted to NAU. He had played in the high school band for three years. He sang in the high school choir his senior year. Oh how I loved watching him sing. He had a girlfriend. He was a musician with a love for all kinds of music. He played guitar, piano, saxophone and tuba. I sat quietly every chance I had to listen to him play his guitar.  He had interests, passions, plans for his future. He had so much to give and he did give.

He gave to the girl who was a stranger huddled along a wall in the school halls crying about her cat dying by making a comment that resulted in a conversation, a smile and a friendship. He stood in between a girl and bullies at school. He eased the apprehension of a new girl’s first day in class. He talked a boy out of suicide. He was a source of encouragement for the classmate that was pregnant. He helped his peers accept themselves as who they were- in their unique molds of different shapes, sizes, abilities and talents. He taught people to love….to love themselves and others. He gave the gift of laughter – smiles and the experience of a warm heartfelt hug. The kind of hug where he lifted you off your feet and held you tight. I often asked for Riley’s hugs myself.

On Riley’s 18th birthday, May 3, 2014, Riley tried acid/LSD for the first time. He bought the drug from a boy at school, a choir member who had bought it online. He sent out a snap chat of the tab on his tongue. He wrote of feeling joy at the beginning of the trip. Many hours later, he reached out to a boy who said to call him if he got into trouble. The boy did not answer. A girl sent him a “Happy Birthday” text. He replied, “On Acid” and then another, “Halp” (spelled like that). Not long after that, during an acid trip that must have turned very bad, worse than I like to imagine, Riley took a gun and shot himself.

Riley came into this world and left on the same date. Forever 18. A birthday dinner was planned for later that night. Presents for him were left wrapped not ever to be opened. Riley was gone in an instant by his decision to try a drug for the first time. Riley was a typical teen- he thought he was invincible. He was not invincible.

Only 30 hours before Riley put the tab on his tongue, he and I sat at the kitchen table together and talked about drugs. He brought the subject up. We talked about making smart choices, how dangerous drugs were and the possible consequences of drug use. This was a subject that we had discussed many times before. He assured me that we were on the same page. Yet now I know that he had already bought the acid when he sat down to talk to me.

The toxicology report showed that Riley had 5 times the amount of LSD in his system than what he thought he had bought. It was the highest amount that the medical examiner had seen in his 30 year career. Someone up the line of where the drug came from, whoever made it, messed up.

With all my know how, I attempted to keep my son safe. My reach, my arms enveloping him trying to protect him only worked so far into his life. Our children have opportunities to make decisions. Riley paid the consequences of the decision that he made to try acid.  A decision that I am sure if he could, he would make differently. My hope is that Riley’s story is repeated over and over. That the message is clear to those that hear it…Drugs kill.

As the school year ends, as summer break begins, the drug use and partying will be ramping up. More teens start drinking alcohol, smoke cigarettes, try drugs in the months of June and July than any other month of the year. Here we are approaching June in only a few days.

My hope is that teens hear Riley’s story, think twice and in turn make a different choice when given the opportunity to try a drug. My hope is that Riley’s story is repeated in the work place, in the classroom, at the kitchen table- that a parent hears his story and repeats it to their child.

If Riley’s story can save just one life, then we’ve made a difference.

Tell Riley’s story.

I Love You, Riley.

Always Be Yourself

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Riley and his best buddy.

 

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Batman to the rescue with a little Star Wars help.

 

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Riley’s ID badge for his NAU tour

 

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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.

There’s No Rewriting History

Push the Save Draft ButtonI 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

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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. photo (14)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.IMG_6300

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.

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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.

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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.