Kentucky

Happy Birthday My Son, My Love I Miss You

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IMG_1416It’s Riley’s birthday, May 3rd. He would have been 20 today. I’ve thought a lot about what he might have been doing today on his 20th birthday…finishing his sophomore year at NAU, making plans for the summer. I’ve thought about what he would look like. What he would be like at 20 after two years in college and living away from home. I have thought alot these past few days. Yesterday I was dreading today. I was wishing it wouldn’t come.

Today I woke up and decided the dread of today wasn’t the same now that it is here. I had a plan to celebrate Riley’s life. Why not celebrate the 18 years I had with him and all the blessings that came with having Riley in my life? He gave me many smiles, lots of laughter, kisses and hugs. I am honored to have had him as a son and I am so proud of him for who he was. I had a plan and I kept to it. I went driving.

I went to Forkland, Kentucky first. It’s off the beaten path a ways with rolling hills of lush green and a great drive of scenery. I brought my camera. I found a creek with picnic benches. I climbed down to the water and touched it as it moved across the pebbles. I listened to the sound of the stream as it flowed. I breathed in and out. I enjoyed the moment of being near the water which is exactly where Riley would like to be.

From there I went to Lake Cumberland to where I spread some of Riley’s ashes last year on his birthday. On the way I clicked the CD on of Riley’s music that stays in my CD player in my car. Sometimes it is good to listen to the songs he liked. Sometimes it is not. Today it was a good idea.

I cried here and there while I drove. That’s okay. There is a good reason for my tears I miss my sweet baby boy. The tears that roll down my cheeks are full of my love for him. The drive back to the lake which I hadn’t done since his birthday last year, is so beautiful with winding roads and tall trees.

I went straight to the spot where I spread some of his ashes.  The ashes were spread at the base of a tree. It was still there standing tall above all of the other trees with a perfect view of the water. It looked healthy and strong. The air was cool with a breeze blowing. The ground was wet and the smell was of a damp forest. I jumped at the sound of a critter rustling in the brush below me. I laughed at myself and listened. I heard the breeze in the branches and the rustle of nature. I sat awhile. It was a good place to be today.

I covered a lot of miles today. I talked to Riley a little while I drove. I saw views that took my breath away. I found peace sitting on top of a mountain and dipping my hand in cool running water. I did some crying. I did some smiling. I saw purple flowers. I captured moments with my camera. I made it through today.

Today is not only Riley’s birthday, but it his angel date as well. I am tired. My heart hurts. It swells with love for Riley. It pounds with pain that he is not here anymore. It aches for him. It skips a beat and causes me to smile as well. Riley was one of a kind. He gave away smiles when he was alive. Thoughts of him still cause smiles to spread across our faces. It’s hard to think of who Riley was and how he lit up a room and not grin from ear to ear. It’s a certain reaction.

Happy Birthday, my son, my love, I miss you. I long for the day that I can hold, kiss and laugh with you again. I promise I will find moments of peace that contain sites, smells, and sounds to sink into my soul that I know you would have liked to have shared with me.

I Love You, Riley.

Riley’s Light Still Burns

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385_10208519924902712_7427177614674201900_nHere in Danville, KY a family run funeral home lights Christmas wreaths on their porch during Christmas time. Each wreath is made up of candles that are lit for the people whom they have served in the last two years. These candles, these lights of love, glow from their porch. There are extra spaces each year for those that request that a candle be lit for their loved one. I asked that a candle be lit for Riley.

With a brief service of a prayer, song and poem, beyond a table laid out with cookies, punch and eggnog, we lit the candles representing our loved ones. The wreaths came to life.  The candles glow steadily from December 23rd through Christmas day.

On Christmas Eve, when the sun had set, with a heavy heart, I went to visit Riley’s candle.  As I drove up, the sight of the candles burning brightly gave me a sense of peace. Riley is not alone. It was a beautiful site to see. The wreaths glowed lighting up the dark night representing those loved ones who have passed on like my son.920656_929498877144061_8033021330807268661_o

I climbed the stairs, sat down on the floor of the porch, looked at Riley’s candle and immediately began to cry.  In true Riley fashion, Riley’s candle was smack dab in the middle of the first row of the bottom of the opening of the wreath. There he was front and center. I watched the flame flicker. His candle was flickering just like his love for others. Like my love for him, the candle burned steadily and strong.

My mind flickers to memories of Riley this holiday season. The pain this holiday season is as strong as when we lost him. I cry for myself and my loss. For the hole in my universe without him here. I miss my sweet baby boy in more ways than I can count.  The pain cuts through me leaving me wounded, limp, numb. I want to sit down next to him, loop my arm in his, lay my head on his shoulder and thank him again for being him. His smile, his humor lit up a room. His memories glow within me.

People stopped by to see the candles while I sat there. I sat still during the commotion trying not to invade their moments with their candles. I tried to leave Riley’s candle a couple of times, but ended up plopping back down to watch his light bounce. I couldn’t leave him. I couldn’t go yet.12391257_930852490342033_6848398570400369481_n

Then a woman and a teenage boy pulled up in a car. They went straight to the candles on the wreath on the left taking pictures of the specific names they were looking for. The woman unexpectedly walked over to me and asked if I was there for someone. I replied, “My son, Riley”. The teen boy with her peeked his head around her and said, “I knew you looked familiar. Riley has a candle here? Where is it? I want to take a picture and post it.” I pointed at Riley’s candle and said, “You’ve heard me speak?” He said, “Yes.” He told me that he had his WWRD bracelet.  There was more that he said, I can’t recall it well enough to repeat it as I was hanging on to what was happening.

Here on the porch, in the dark, in a town I’ve only been apart of for a short time, a kind woman had just reached out to me and a sweet boy had shared with me that Riley’s story had been heard. There was light coming from a different direction on the porch now.

I have sat in a chair in front of groups of kids to tell Riley’s story in hopes that they will remember that it can happen in just one try, that they aren’t invincible, that drugs kill. Some of the kids line up afterwards to hug me. They say their condolences. They tell me stories of how drugs have effected their lives. As hard as it is to relive the loss of my son each time that I tell his story, I am continuously rewarded with how Riley’s story has made an impact on lives.

Coming from a big city to a small town is rewarding in many ways. The holidays have consisted of lit up store windows, town Christmas traditions, and decorations that line Main Street, but especially, what sticks with me most is how loving and caring people are to strangers.

This woman whom I had not met before that night, a local shop owner, standing on the Stith Funeral Home porch gave me a hug. She went on to invite me to come along with them to their Christmas Eve celebration and even furthered her kindness to tell me about their Sunday afternoons of lunch and watching old movies. If I ever wanted to come, I was welcome.

I am welcome here. Riley is welcome here. His light burns in hearts of teens that never knew him. They feel they know him now. So after a Christmas that was pure hell in so many ways, I sit here thankful that Riley still lights up a room…a porch. Riley’s light still burns.

I Love You, Riley.

 

 

Thanksgiving Traditions

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IMG_7534I kicked into gear the day before Thanksgiving. I grocery shopped, picked up the house, dusted, mopped, and cleaned out the refrigerator as if it was going to be magically loaded up with leftovers the next day. I baked a pie.

At the end of the day, as I washed the last of the dishes I had used, the memories of Thanksgivings gone by snuck up and flooded my mind.  Part of those Thanksgivings isn’t on earth anymore. He was a part of what made each holiday special.

My eyes welled up with tears, my heart twisted up in knots and I cried with my hands still in the soapy water holding a dish in one hand and wash rag in the other. As if my hands couldn’t leave the water, I leaned my forehead on the edge of the sink and cried. I stood up with my hands still in the water and stared out the kitchen window into the dark trying to find composure. I didn’t find it. More rounds of tears came.  I washed the snot from my nose on the sleeve of my shirt as I lifted my arm up with water dripping down it. I returned to washing the dishes in the sink and continued to cry.

Eventually the dishes were washed, the sink drained and my hands were dried.

Dishes were clean but my heart is not. My heart has been damaged with cracks that run to a gaping hole in me. There will be no more Thanksgivings with Riley. Thanksgivings will never be the same. I worked very hard at making traditions and memories for holidays for the kids as they grew up.

Here in Kentucky I was doing the tradition of preparing for Thanksgiving though there wouldn’t be a brood of family coming in the door. My memories are of cleaning and preparing for a house full of family- trying to keep in front of kids dropping their things in freshly cleaned rooms and adding to the dishes to wash, being up early to peel potatoes and put the turkey in the oven.

Riley coming through the kitchen asking what kind of pies would we have. He liked pumpkin pie. Yes, there would be a pumpkin pie, but Grandma was bringing it along with three other kinds of pies. Braden’s humor and goofiness on Thanksgivings was a staple. Bria dragging herself out of bed just in time to shower before family got there. A day off from swim practice or work meant sleep for her.

Per tradition, the morning of Thanksgiving we had cinnamon rolls. I talked to Braden on the phone on Thanksgiving morning this year as he was eating a cinnamon roll. I didn’t ask, but it seems he was keeping to tradition. I like that. That’s what the traditions that I made sure that we had are supposed to do. To be carried on as they grow older and have their own homes.

My mind flashed to the family gatherings of aunts and uncles, cousins, my Mom who has been gone almost 7 years now – missing her homemade rolls, her smile and loving open arms. I thought of Aunt Una who has been gone 6 years.  Watching Aunt Una  enjoy the taste and smell of the holidays was a treat.

Those Thanksgivings are gone. I mourn them. I mourn what I have had. I wish I wasn’t mourning. I don’t want to mourn. I don’t want the pain. I am mad that I have this grief that I cannot shed. I give myself permission to mourn though permission doesn’t stop the pain. It is here to stay.

I have not forgotten to be thankful. I am thankful for my cabin, Bert laying by my feet, new friends and the health and happiness of my family. I am thankful that I wake up every day, that I have work with new opportunities opening up before me that bring on personal challenges and growth. I am thankful that I had Riley for the years that I did. I am not without thanks.

I am without Riley. That I cannot be thankful for.

In my leap of faith to move to Kentucky, there has been much to be thankful for and yet I miss my kids. I ache to hold all three of them. The tears come from the realization that space keeps me from them. I cannot hold Riley ever again-the space between us is far too great and it’s just not fair!

This Thanksgiving I followed traditions without realizing it. I was able to create new traditions. The one personal Thanksgiving tradition I kept with tenacity, dedication, persistence, and single-mindedness was completed. I ate my pie for breakfast each morning until it was gone.

I Love You, Riley.

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Speaking to Save a Life

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IMG_7170As 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.

Bug

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filename-11In all of the beauty in the blue sky, white clouds, perfect black fence lines, barns sitting on hills with horses grazing in green pastures and cattle of different colors strewn across fields here in Kentucky, there are also bugs, lots and lots of bugs.

I was driving down the road with my elbow out an open window with cool breeze blowing in my hair. It was a beautiful day and I was smack dab in the middle of it. I was taking it all in and then suddenly there was a burning sensation on my left side- a sudden pain. I yelped, “OW!” I reached down with one hand still on the wheel feeling for what it was. I didn’t feel anything. “Ow, ow, ow… Keep your eyes on the road, Djuana,” I told myself. There was nowhere to pull off so I kept driving thinking, “What was that?”

When I got to the cabin and was able to look, I found a red spot that still felt like it was burning. I grabbed a cube of ice and put it on my side. It must have been a bug that flew into the window and stung me. I never found the remnants of whatever it was.

After sitting outside on my back porch last night, I came inside and laid across my bed  to reply to a text on my phone. Something very large and black dropped down from my hair in the right side of my line of vision. I threw my phone, jumped up on my knees on the bed and started shaking my hair and running my fingers through it looking  for it to drop down on the bed. Where did it go? I don’t know, but after inspection in the mirror, I didn’t see it on my shirt or still hanging in my hair anymore.

Bugs, bug bites, spider webs are everywhere in the summer in Kentucky.

I have chigger bites. I remember them well from growing up spending time at the cabin in Pine, Arizona. The five of us kids played in the dirt under the cabin making taco stands and finding sand rocks to crush – our imaginary life thrived in the woods in Arizona. If you play in the dirt, you get chigger bites.

Here in Kentucky, I tend to go out to mow and water plants without putting bug repellant on. It’s there  on the counter beside the back door to make sure that I remember it. I still don’t remember until the first bite and then I go running into the house looking for the Caladryl to make the itching stop. I’m tired of bugs right now.

I do have one bug that I love. One of Riley’s nicknames was “Bug”. Greg started that when he was born and it just stuck. I think of our bug every day. Sometimes it is just a good memory. I try to keep it at that but an ache, a wish, and reality always comes with a memory of Riley.

I miss my bug. I wish so bad that I had him here with me. His memory bites, burns and leaves a bump. He crawls up my back and gets under my skin at times. Sometimes my bug tickles and doesn’t bite. Every day is different. Each day I try very hard to find the good because the bad will put me to my knees in an instant.

Kentucky bugs will go away as the weather changes. My bug is here to stay in my heart and on my mind. The burn and itch of bug bites disappear after a short time. The burn of missing my bug, Riley does not disappear. It is a constant itch that will not heal.  I can stay in the pain or I can keep moving. I choose to keep moving best I can.

As I get ready to tell Riley’s story at a local community forum, Smart Start in 9 days, I am hoping my bug’s story will stick in the children’s minds. That they will remember the story about a boy about their age died because he messed with drugs. That it only took one try of a drug to die. That there is poison in drugs and they don’t know for sure what they are about to smoke, snort, inhale or swallow.  Riley’s death is a message that shows proof that it is not worth the try. It is not worth the chance. “Find a high another way”, I say.  Don’t die like my bug, Ri.

I Love You, Riley.

When Doves Fly

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photo 2 (13)Spring is in the air. The grass is a lush green. There are buds of leaves springing on the trees. Overnight the scenery around me changes. I go to sleep with bare bushes and wake up to green, purple, and white buds blossoming. The pastures are a deep green with wild flowers and dandelions, the sky is blue and I am breathing fresh cool air. The birds are singing. This is all so refreshing. I have lived here six months. It is a new season to experience and I am ready for it.

Riley is on my mind. I have had a break from crying the last few weeks. I have had an uncanny sense of calm. I can’t really explain why. I’m fighting some anger these days about Riley’s case and the situation of his death, but not even that has dug into my gutt. I’m busy with work. I’m not sure exactly why I am calm. I’m not going to complain.

photo 3 (11)I am in tune to the birds here. It has made me think of a dove that appeared on my balcony during the time right after Riley died. I had lived there a year and had not seen one there before. I was alone on my couch crying and overwhelmed with my grief. I was wishing it wasn’t true- that it was all a bad dream.The dove appeared and stayed for two days. It flew back and forth from one side of the balcony to the other. When I rolled over to cry more, it would bump into the sliding glass door making sure I knew it was there.  It perched, it cooed and it stared at me through the window. I went to sleep, I woke up and it was still there.

About then I decided I needed to keep moving. I had to stand up. I had to dig for my strength. I have just kept breathing and putting one foot in front of the other since. I cry when I need to cry. I yell into the empty space when I feel anger. I get it out. I talk to Riley and tell him that I love him every time he passes through my mind. I am facing my grief. All of the ups and downs, the lulls and the storm of emotions and I have found I am remarkably still standing as we near the one year mark.

A dove has recently started nesting in my gutter on my front porch of my log cabin here in Kentucky. It isphoto 3 (10) raining. Even in the rain, she does not move. She looks at me. The sounds of Bert clunking around underneath her does not disturb her. The mail woman who drove up my driveway to give me a package did not make her budge. She remains steadfast and still. She is protecting what is growing beneath her.

Doves bring peace. They are rare amongst birds in that they produce their own milk to feed their young. They cease foraging before their babies are born to ensure the milk is pure. This is a sacrifice for their young. This is nurturing and motherhood. They represent care, devotion, and purity. In the midst of battle and conflict, the dove is a symbol of peace that will come. The cooing of a dove is lulling and calming. The dove is representative of unconditional love. It is believed that when a dove is seen flying it means a soul has been released from earth.

Riley’s soul is not here anymore. It has been released. I will continue to fight this fight for Riley. This I can do for him.

My son is gone because of a first time try of acid/LSD. He is gone because blood sucking, money hoarding human beings are behind making these drugs that are bought online. Someone messed up making the tab Riley bought from the high school dealer. A tab with the highest amount of LSD the medical examiner had seen in one body in his 30 year career. One try of LSD took my child. He couldn’t have, wouldn’t have known this outcome. I know that he would go back and make a different choice if he could. He cannot.

Choices have consequences. I beg teens to make smart choices. Think before you act. Know that you are not invincible. Riley’s death is proof of that. Save your parents from this pain. Don’t mess with drugs. Step away from whatever pressure you feel to try or to continue using. That’s whatever drug is in front of you. Be different. Stay alive. Think about Riley.

I Love You, Riley.