A life that touches others goes on forever

IMG_5340-2-3222307474-OA life that touches others goes on forever. I want desperately for Riley’s story to be instrumental in changing lives. We that knew him and loved him are forever touched by who he was. I speak and tell his story so others know Riley and his story.

Simply said, a grieving parent doesn’t want their child forgotten. That is natural. We want to talk about them and we don’t want you to be afraid to mention them.  I want you to remember my young boy that was going to rule the world some day dressed in a baseball cap, cowboy boots and red cape and the young man who liked to discuss how the world could be a better place to live. He shared his smile with strangers and friends alike. His story is important.

In December of last year, I gave a donation in Riley’s name to Isaiah House Treatment Center, a campus of two facilities totalling 88 beds – a men’s drug addiction treatment program located in a small rural town called Willisburg, Kentucky. I have had the privilege of working with Isaiah House for four months now. What I know about this place is that after my many years of researching drug addiction treatment centers all over the United States, I have never and I mean never, seen a rehabilitation center that covers addiction treatment like this place. They are a non profit organization that operates on a very tight budget to provide the largest amount of comprehensive services possible in order to ensure a lifetime of recovery for the men that come through their doors.

I asked to share Riley’s story with the men. I wanted them to know my son and his story.

As I set up the slide show of Riley and sat down, some of the guys started filing in finding seats. Since we were sitting face to face, waiting for my daughter, Bria and the rest of the men to come into the room, we started talking.  I don’t think they knew how much that helped me keep my nerves in check.

It had been awhile since I told Riley’s story. It’s never easy. It’s harder when I haven’t been doing it regularly. Visiting the memories of Riley dying is hard.

My imagination runs wild as I revisit the story. There is a visual picture in my head of the tab on his tongue in the snap chat he sent out. The smile on his face as he wrote what joy was like signing it, “acid”. The final hours of his life filled with terror, the cries for help that weren’t answered, the moments of him standing at the entry way of the front door with a gun under his chin. I don’t know how to tell the story without the details of how I lost my son. I HATE the details. I HATE drugs.

So what do you say to a group of adult men of all ages who know drugs very well, who could have died from drug use, but are still here sitting in front of you alive? I said the same thing I say to the kids in classrooms and school gyms. “You don’t know what you have in your hands. Please live. I want you to live.” I told the men I don’t want your Mom, Dad, grandparents, sisters, brothers, wives and children to feel the pain I feel every day. I relayed the message as not a warning of a first try of a drug, but of the possible consequences of one more use of a drug.

Those consequences happen in overdoses in mass numbers daily across the United States. The heroin epidemic is wiping out a generation. There are new synthetic drugs that are killing our sons and daughters as they hit the streets every time we turn around. There are too many parents that know the grief of losing a child to drug use. There are too many children in foster care because of losing their parents to drug use.

There were tears in the audience that mimicked mine as I spoke. At the end, the men had some kind and introspective comments about what they had heard Bria and I say. Each walked out with a “What Would Riley Do Bracelet” and I had accomplished telling Riley’s story one more time.

From there, they take Riley’s story with them and I will never know how it effected each one, but I know I shared it with the purpose that his story sticks with them.

The game room at Isaiah House is named Riley’s Game Room now. The Game Room has a television, an arcade game, ping-pong table, pool table, gaming system and guitars in it. Riley’s kind of room! It’s a great room to have Riley’s name on it.

Because A life that touches others goes on forever.

I Love You, Riley.

Saturday Mornings

saturday-706914_1280aSaturday mornings…they are my favorite. The work week is over except not in my case because social media does not ever close for business so neither do I.  A load of clients, deadlines and another project handed to me when I think I am seeing the end of the tunnel fills my day. Then there is the fact that I should have said,”No” and am kicking myself right into my favorite day of the week. I am hopeful that Sunday is a day of rest. That’s what God said it should be.

But still Saturday’s are quieter. They have this standing of, I am here, you can do something different kind of spot on the calendar. I like that.

As I started my coffee this morning, my stomach grumbled and I walked over to the refrigerator and opened it. Grocery shopping has been on the to do list, but I haven’t left the house in days due to that work schedule thing.  The refrigerator is pretty much empty.

On a shelf, all by itself, sits my takeout leftovers from dinner last night. As I opened the container and took a bite, I had a flashback of Saturday mornings years ago. The years where I was mom with sleeping children in their beds and always some kind of leftover to partake in the refrigerator. All the years of pizza leftovers are on my mind. Pizza is a fine cuisine fresh out of the oven or bagged in the refrigerator a day later.  Pizza was Riley’s favorite meal and cold pizza with some ranch dressing on the side would be a usual breakfast during his teen years.

It was a score for me to get a piece of leftover pizza before the masses of human beings that inhabited my home got out of bed. I was usually the first one up on a Saturday morning to inhale the quiet before the storm of live breathing humans that would soon rustle about in my home. A “Mom, I want…”, “Mom, can I?”, “Mom, will you?” was on the horizon. I could count on it.

Today, this Saturday morning, my cabin is silent with only a tick of a clock, the sound of an old ceiling fan making its rounds, round and round and the sound of me typing on my computer’s keyboard. It will stay just this quiet all day long with no looming rustle of awakened souls coming any minute. I miss the anticipation.

The warmth of family around you is something to embrace as some day the nest becomes empty. That scenario is one we parents know will be coming. What I didn’t know is one of those souls from my family would be gone from my life here on earth. That soul that was a light in every one of my days is no more. That soul that was a part of my world is gone.

As my computer powers up each day and Riley’s face stares back at me, I think, how could he be gone? How could this have happened? I tell him so as I see him looking back at me. Oh, how I miss him being a part of my Saturdays. I miss him being here to worry about, think about and care for. I miss fighting over the leftover pizza with him

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Riley must have thought it couldn’t happen. Riley must have thought this will be cool – that it was something to tell his friends he had done. He was celebrating his birthday. It didn’t end up to be a celebration, but a nightmare that he couldn’t get out of.

On this Saturday, the memory of Riley grabbing leftover pizza from the fridge while looking for the homemade ranch dressing with sleep tousled hair, barefoot in boxers and a t-shirt, causes my lips to curl in a smile as my heart aches with pain at the same time. That is what happens most times I think of Riley.

Don’t mess with drugs. It’s just not worth it.

I hate drugs!

 

I Love You, Riley.

 

My Name: Riley Reed Peterson

Scan0115I found this treasure in a box of pictures. It is a sort of handmade puzzle Riley made. I think he was a first grader. It is hand cut in different shapes with a question in each piece. Each question has Riley’s handwritten answer. It is a sort of who is Riley type of project.  His answers are candid and true to who Riley was at age 6. What a great age! I see the twinkle in his eyes when I think of Riley at age 6.

My Name:  Riley Reed Peterson. (I love that he wrote his whole name.) My Birthday: May 3rd. (Yep, the day he was born……. and died.) My favorite animal:  a prona and a shark (He loved the water.) My favorite food: An ice cream sunday  (Of course!) Where I was born: Scottsdale, AZ  (He was 7 lbs 7 oz, 21″ long and born during a Phoenix Suns playoff game.) My favorite book: Wackey Wednesday and Capt. Underpants (Copies of those books are still on his bookshelf in his room.) What I like most about our school:  the cafeteria and the playground. (For sure those are the best parts of school.) What I do well:  Beat my grama at checkers. (I can see the pride on his face now.) My wish: That I was rich and I had a dirt bike and a million dirt bike stadiums. (He had big plans starting at a young age!)

I think Riley Reed Peterson who was born on May 3rd, who loved the water and to swim had outgrown his interest in sharks and piranha’s. (Note how much of a little boy that is to like dangerous water animals!) He favored elephants as a teen. He wasn’t a big fan of ice cream anymore though he never wavered from his love of pizza.  In that hospital in Scottsdale, Riley took his time arriving into this world. Braden had come so quickly. When my water broke, Braden was delivered in minutes. I was prepared for Riley to be a replay of my quick delivery of his big brother. It was not at all. It took medication and waiting for Riley to arrive thus Greg had time to watch the Suns playoff game while we waited. He did eventually arrive in due time- Riley timing. Riley enjoyed reading Captain Underpants books at that age. Me too!  At 17, he enjoyed books that made him go “Hmm” and contemplate deep questions that have no answers. I think Riley still thought the world was his playground. He traded playing checkers with Grandma  for playing chess at Coffee Rush with whomever was up for the challenge. He often beat his opponents at chess too. Riley gave up his love for dirt bikes for an interest in cars, guitars, vinyl, and computers among many other things.  I imagine that he is pretty ticked that he didn’t get to the rich part. I fully expected Riley to reach his goals he had set for himself. He dreamed big. I loved that about him. I don’t think anyone should put limits on their dreams- they happen.

Forever May 3rd will be a painful day for us. What once was a day to celebrate his life now will remind us of the end of his life.  A curious 3 year old that drew on the back of my leather couch with an ink pen.  A curious 7 yr old who almost was successful in peeing off the balcony of a top floor hotel room. A curious 12 year old that spent hours learning the ins and outs of computers. A curious 14 year old started the process of teaching himself how to play guitar. A curious 17 year old tried a drug labeled as acid that had promises of a psychedelic spiritual experience. That last bout of curiosity killed him. Curious isn’t bad. We learn from our curiosity and mistakes made. This is a lesson of curiosity that was a mistake. A fatal one. That is a puzzle piece of Riley’s life that has been written that I will never be able to fully accept.

I Love You, Riley Reed Peterson.

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