Really good looking, Intelligent, Likes pizza, Exellent at Saxaphone, Yippee

September 12, 2016September 12, 2016 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

One of Riley’s self portraits that he made in grade school hangs in my office. It hung up in the loft of our home for many years pinned by a magnet to a catch-all board there. I have always loved it because there it is….. THAT’S Riley.

R “Really good looking” He was. I love his self confidence! He was cute as a button as a baby and as a teen he lit up a room. His smile, his pretty blue eyes, that luscious blonde hair- you couldn’t miss him. One of his classmates told me a story after he died of how Riley told her daily that she was beautiful. She said she began to believe him after hearing it over and over. Those words changed how she saw herself. He charmed us all from birth on.

I “Intelligent” Yep, he was intelligent. School was not hard for him. Getting him to do homework was another story. Tests came easy. He was accepted to college and was thinking about chemical engineering. He built computers. He loved intelligent conversation and savored in the shock factor of the arguments he entered into. He looked for the opportunity to discuss anything from music to politics and religion.

L “Likes Pizza” Yep! It was his favorite food. If you gave him a choice what do you want for dinner, it would be pizza 90% of the time. We made homemade pizzas for special occasions. I have many memories around a meal of pizza with Riley. I have a great memory of having pizza with him at a nice restaurant the year he died – how he ordered, what he chose, how he handled himself and the ‘Thank you’ I received after.

E “Exellent at Saxaphone”. Uh-huh! He liked musical instruments and saxophone was his first instrument at school. The saxophone took him into high school marching and concert band. He picked up the tuba as well. He taught himself to play guitar. He owned an organ and played piano. His choir director his senior year of high school was his grade school band director. She often commented to me at how Riley had grown musically. He loved and had an appreciation for music.

Y “Yippee!” Of course Yippee! That was Riley- smiles, hugs of lifting you off of your feet, causing laughter where ever he was, his excitement for living and the enjoyment of being with him in any circumstance. His smiles, his attitude about life, his unconditional love was contagious.

The picture is a good reflection of Riley as well. There is his big smile that melted us all. His big blue eyes that were lit with life. He was always thinking behind those eyes. His short hair at the time grew long past his shoulders. He even put detail to his ears in this picture. His ears were open listening soaking it all in. He liked to draw.

On May 3, 2014 Riley’s smile faded. The insurmountable amount of acid in his body that night from one tab bought online by a high school student must have caused demons that he could not push away as he reached out with a text of “HALP”. What did he see that night that he couldn’t run from? What voices were in his ears that caused him to use that gun on himself? That loud gunshot was the last sound he heard. His tongue to never taste pizza again. His big blue eyes went blank- closed for the last time.

The light of Riley turned dark at that point. My sweet baby boy, an adult for only a few hours- born and died on the same date- he was 18. Gone by trying a drug for the first time. The boy who drew this picture, that boldly stated who he was, was no more. He lives in the hearts that knew him and now from his story being shared, he lives in the hearts of those that did not know him. Intelligent but made a poor choice- he made a decision he cannot take back. No more eating pizza, playing the saxophone and no more YIPPEE’s.

We will love him forever. I believe you will remember him forever now. RILEY- really good looking, Intelligent, Likes pizza, Excellent at the saxophone and lived a life with a Yippee went dark that morning.

I can’t touch him again, hear his voice, laugh with him until we cry because he tried a drug and he didn’t know what he really had in his hand.

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

I Love You, Riley.

Grief sucks.

May 29, 2016May 29, 2016 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Grief sucks. A parent’s loss of a child doesn’t compare to any other loss. I’m telling you it’s true. Right now my pain is worse than ever. May has been hard. This is the second May since Riley died. It feels rougher than the last. Maybe I got better at not concentrating on my grief and it has hit harder. Maybe I got better at keeping myself distracted. Maybe my life has been fuller this past year with my own business, finishing a basement, a birth of a grand-daughter and more. Maybe I am more awake and less numb at the two-year mark of his birthday and his death.

I can’t get away from the grief in my life. It is in my face every time I sit still. If I only could not be still, but I have to be still sometimes. It’s the worst when I try to go to sleep. I lay there and my grief, my loss eats at me and gnaws on my heart. It hurts. It is miserable. I hate it.

In the mornings it can be just as bad when I open my eyes. Some days I have a project or a place to be that I can concentrate on and then, at some point…I have to be still again. And there it is, the black clouds creeping over me and parking themselves on top of me, covering me from the sunshine. Tears like rain fall.

I just want my boy back with his smile, his humor, to hear his voice say, “I love you, Mom”.

In the club of parents who have lost a child we did not ask to be a part of, but were thrown into without permission, we have lost parents who have given in to the pain. They have quit the club to join their children. It is sad. It makes me angry that they quit. Yet, I get it. The pain must stop then. This emotional pain is awful. I have never lived with physical pain that I couldn’t eventually relieve. The emotional pain of grief can be shoved to the side in the midst of a day, but it’s always there waiting for you and it’s not going anywhere.

My son should still be alive. I don’t know why it had to happen to him. Why did Riley have to try LSD that night? Why couldn’t circumstances have been different to keep him from trying it? I don’t know. It happened. There is no rewind.

I spoke a lot this month to adults and teens. Each time I tell his story, I relive how special he was, how much I miss and love him and also the details of how he died. It’s not easy. Knowing a person might be impacted by his story and make a different decision than Riley did keeps me sure that this is what I am supposed to be doing despite the pain.

Grief sucks. Life doesn’t have to suck. I feel that I have to live to tell his story. I have to carry this pain. I have to grieve because there is no way around it. Living means more than grieving. My job is to savor the moments like finding lady bugs on my apple tree leaves and enjoying the site despite also discovering the cedar rust at the same time. That’s life.

I am thankful for that hug that reaches into my soul and lets it rest for a minute. For the hour on a hammock in the dark, under the moon, staring at the stars and feeling a peace that Riley is safely tucked in the heavens. For the sweet grand baby in my arms. For that phone call from my son. For that message from my daughter. Living for dancing in the kitchen, tasting a new food, experiencing something randomly new. For learning something I didn’t know. For the smiles and belly laughs that come to me.

Riley savored new sights and experiences.

I am thankful to be able to hear Riley’s voice in that video, his thrill in the sight of a rainbow on the beach in Hawaii that felt so close that we could touch it. I am reminded to be thankful that there is something else around the corner that will challenge me to be better, do better, grow and thrive in some way. Those are the good things and the reason I am here.

Grief sucks. Life doesn’t have to suck. (Somebody remind me of this later.)

I Love You, Riley.

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Your message has been sent

Whatcha Want Mom?

February 21, 2016 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Facebook has a “On This Day” feature that shows a person what happened on this day on their Facebook wall over the years. The memories that are highlighted are of activities that happened on your wall such as what you posted, what others shared to your wall and the messages they wrote to you there. When I look I often smile to see where I was, what I was doing and thinking that day that year. Today one of the memories gripped me.

On this day, today- February 20, 2009 at 7:10 pm, Riley wrote a message on my Facebook wall. It said, “Whatcha want mom?”

He was 12 on this day in 2009. He was in the 7th grade at Willis Jr High. His hair was short. He was playing saxophone in the jr high band. I drove him to school and picked him up every day. We had extra time together in the mornings after Bria and Braden went to high school because Willis Jr High had a later start time. He was a good student. He had friends from band, grade school and church.

He was involved at church in the youth group. He loved his youth leader. He was into gaming on the computer, XBox and Playstation 2. His big Christmas present in December was Guitar Hero. He had sleep overs that involved Guitar Hero til the wee hours of the morning.

It was a Friday night when he sent that message. I bet he was across the street playing on computers at the Marlins’ house. I had written a “Riley!” on his wall that morning. That was his response 12 hours later. I was new to Facebook. I didn’t click the “like” button when I got it that night. I didn’t respond with a comment to his message, “Whatcha want mom?”until today.

I have an answer for him now. I have a very long answer for him.

What do I want Riley?

I want you here. I want you alive. I want to see you smiling from across the room at me. I want to hear your voice. I want you to yell down the stairs telling me that you are going to bed and ask me to come up. I want to loop my arm around yours, lean my head on your shoulder and tell you how proud I am of you. I want you to know how much you lit up my life.

I want to touch you. I want to touch you so bad. I want a Riley hug. I want to put my arms around you, hold you tight and not let you go. I want to look into your blue eyes and tell you that I love you instead of yelling it into the clouds hoping it reaches you in heaven.

I want you to have made a different choice that night. I want you to have skipped trying the LSD. I want something to have been different in the scheme of that evening to have changed the outcome.

I want to laugh with you til we have tears in our eyes. I want to make you coffee and swing on the porch swing together. I want to sit and listen to you play your guitar. I want you to be in your sophomore year of college at NAU. I want you to be happy and smiling. I want you to grow to be 95. I want you to outlive me. I want you alive.

That’s what I want. That’s what I truly sincerely want. If only I could get what I want.

I Love You, Riley.

What Would Riley Do Bracelets

November 20, 2015November 20, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

As the requests increase for me to speak and tell Riley’s story to groups, the requests for WWRD (What Would Riley Do) bracelets increase as well. I have been giving the bracelets out to whoever wants one when I speak. My thinking is it is a reminder of Riley’s story and perhaps seeing the bracelet will make a person think twice about using a drug. It also may spurn a person to tell Riley’s story to someone.

This is creating a financial strain on me since I can be speaking to 250 students at a time. I have created a Go Fund Me account so that I can take donations. I will only be using the money to cover the cost of the bracelets.

What Would Riley Do if given the chance again to try a drug? He’d choose to not do it. He’d say, “It’s not worth it.”

If you feel led to help me spread Riley’s story with these bracelets, donations can be made at www.gofundme.com/WWRDbracelets

Speaking to Save a Life

November 8, 2015 / djuanadreed / 5 Comments

As the weather changes, as the brisk air chills me, as the beautiful colors of fall are around me, I feel like a zombie that stuck around from Halloween. I am staring ahead and putting one foot in front of the other with my arms stretched straight out guiding me to the next destination. All this while there is an ache that is heavy weighing down my heart. The ache does not let up. It hurts.

Perhaps it is the change of weather triggering the sense of the seasons of holidays ahead. Holidays are hard for those who are grieving the loss of a loved one. Perhaps it is one of the waves of intense grief that come and go. That happens. Perhaps it is those things and all of the speaking I have been doing telling Riley’s story.

To speak and tell Riley’s story takes strength in a new form for me. If you have ever heard me speak, I have a small “baby” voice. Yes, it is true. It has been my whole adult life that the phone rings, I answer and the sales person on the other end says, “Is your Mom home?” and my regular reply is, “I am the Mom.” I have to work to speak loud enough for the room to hear me.

I do not speak in front of people well. My mind gets jumbled. I cannot remember everything I would have written skillfully with purpose and order. I have no skill in speaking. I have quit worrying about skill- instead of trying to do it perfectly, I sit down and tell Riley’s story to the students. I talk to the teens as if they were in my home sitting on the couch with me. Mother mode is easy for me.

Mother mode also opens me up to feel for who I am talking to. I want to protect those precious lives in front of me.

To tell Riley’s story over and over is to relive my nightmare. To speak to the students as a mother who has lost her child to drugs, to beg for them to hear his story and make a different choice than Riley made is draining. It is an opportunity I am thankful for.

I want Riley’s death to not be in vain. My hope is that Riley’s story saves a life.

The impact of my telling his story has already shown as teens (both boys and girls) line up to hug me when I am done. Many step up to me with tears in their eyes. Some uncontrollably crying, telling me their experiences with drugs. This is the case often for the teens that are living with drugs and addiction in their family- these experiences have affected them deeply. Kids are coming into the counselors’ offices individually- needing to talk, to share, to ask for help.

If you have been following me over the last year, you may know about the purple WWRD (What Would Riley Do) bracelets that were made by Riley’s friends to wear and remember the unconditional love he gave to others. I have been handing them out to the students when I speak.

I share the original purpose of the bracelets because that is who Riley was. I also tell the students, I am hoping that when they look at the bracelet, they think to themselves, What Would Riley Do? Riley would say it’s not worth it. He was looking forward to college. He didn’t even get to walk across the stage and get that high school diploma. His life stopped at 18 because of trying a drug.

The bracelets have become something the students are embracing. If they didn’t get one, they are stopping in the counselor office and asking for one. Perhaps the bracelet gets thrown into a drawer, ends up under their bed or thrown into a jewelry box. Perhaps in the moment they need to remember Riley’s story, that person opens the drawer, finds it under the bed or inside the jewelry box and remembers a boy like them died by his choice to try a drug.

It is like playing russian roulette using drugs. You do not know what you have. Riley didn’t. There are too many stories to count of teens who have died using drugs for the first time. It only takes one try. If there isn’t death, there are teens in wheel chairs, half blind, in a hospital bed on a ventilator and many others are chained to drugs by addiction. Addiction ruins lives, is difficult to beat and all too often ends in death.

I HATE DRUGS. I hate that Riley is not here on this earth anymore because of them.

I wish I was making a phone call to Riley in his dorm at NAU to hear about his week. Instead I am looking out a window wrapped in a sweater with an aching heart. I am watching beautiful leaves of red, orange, yellow and brown fall to the ground in the breeze wondering how to have more opportunities to tell Riley’s story in hope to save a precious life. FullSizeRender

I LOVE YOU, Riley.

RILEY, MY SON, MY LOVE

October 4, 2015October 4, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Around my neck hangs a necklace with a silver charm that has Riley’s thumbprint on it. On the back of the charm is engraved: RILEY, MY SON, MY LOVE. When he was a baby, I rocked him while his head laid on my chest as he fell asleep. My heart was at peace with the warmth of my son in my arms. Today my heart aches in the absence of Riley, My son, My love. A cold charm of his thumb print lies on my chest in place of him.

That print of Riley’s thumb was taken from his cold and lifeless body. My son’s thumb… a part of his precious hand that I held whenever I got a chance which was not often enough as he grew taller than I. My son’s hand that I reached over and touched as we drove to get his wisdom teeth out. His hand that was laid out before me as I picked a splinter out of it while tears ran down his cheeks when he was eleven. His hand that I gripped tightly as we crossed the street when he was two. His hand with his tiny delicate fingers wrapped around my finger while I nursed him as an infant.

His hand that I will never feel or touch again.

The thumb that I kissed while tears streamed down his sweet three-year old cheeks when he touched something hot. The thumb he stuck out when he was seven as he stood on the sidewalk in front of our home with the intent of hitch hiking to go see the World Wrestling Federation Championship in Las Vegas. The thumb that strummed his guitar, touched the ivory of the piano keys, held a pencil in school, maneuvered a gaming controller, tapped on the computer keys, and the thumb that was raised in the air on that Christmas morning that he placed a new purple Dinosaur Jr. beanie on his head.

His thumb that I will never feel or touch again.

When I think of Riley, I find myself reaching down to put my thumb on the charm that holds his thumb print. As if I can reach him through that piece of silver. As if the creases of his thumbprint will absorb into the creases of my thumb so that somehow I am touching him again.

I cannot touch him again.

There is touch of a spouse, friend, sister, brother, but there is a special energy, a bond, a connection that moves from one hand to another between parent and child. I miss that bond of touch that Riley and I shared from his birth to his death. The memories span from when he was little and would run up to my leg to hug it to the hugs he gave me as a teen when he picked me up off my feet and held me tight.

That feeling, that touch, the Riley hug that I will never have again.

We use our hands while we are looking out for, protecting , soothing our children. The love we carry for our children is a sacred love that we do not give to anyone or anything else in this world quite the same. I raised Riley with all the knowledge I had yet the curiosity of a teenager got the best of him. He carefully held a tab of acid and placed it on his tongue at the beginning of that fatal night.

Drugs kill, maim, destroy people and their families. Using drugs is playing russian roulette. Teens need to know how little control or knowledge they have of what will happen next when they try a drug. Death happens to teens all too often on the first try of a drug.

Because of Riley’s decision to try a drug, he is gone from this earth. Riley’s touch is not reachable. I cannot get to him. I will never feel the touch of my son’s hand in mine again nor the feel of my love’s thumb wiping away my tears saying, “It’s okay, Mom”. It took only one fatal decision to end all of that and more.

Tell Riley’s story to someone perhaps it will save a life.

I Love You, Riley.