Lisergic Acid Diethylamide

IMG_5340-2-3222307474-O A 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.

As I stood in front of the window of the Medical Examiner’s office waiting for the woman to come back with Riley’s toxicology report, I cried. It has been four months now since he died and in some ways it has been a long wait to find out exactly what was in his system. I was nervous driving through traffic to the building. Every time I do something related to his death, I open up a whole new can of worms but I have to know. Why? Because I want a clear picture of how this happened. I won’t know every detail. Only Riley knows those. My heart beat out of my chest as I was beeped in through the doors. I stumbled over my words as I told them what I wanted. I had called earlier and the ladies had set aside the case information in case I really did show up. They were nice, cordial, business like and were more than willing to help me with directions to the building on the phone. In person they were the same way. It took too long for them to hand me that paper.

I had to pay $5 because my address wasn’t the deceased’s address. Only next of kin get the report free. Geez! I am his Mom. I am next of kin. I wanted to say, “Can I show you all of the pictures I have of us together from birth to 17?” “Can I show you my stretch marks from carrying him in my belly for 9 months?” I was still at that address at least half of the month for the last year and a half. I was still cleaning it, grocery shopping, picking up dry cleaning and managing it for all three men that lived there. I didn’t stop being Riley’s Mom because I didn’t have the same mailing address anymore. I took him to get his wisdom teeth pulled and slept there with him in case he needed me overnight. I still was getting phone calls from him when he didn’t feel good. I was still following him around that house asking him questions and was enduring the rolling of his eyes when I said something mother like.

I didn’t argue. I didn’t grumble. I paid the $5 and sucked it up. I paced while I waited for the lady to come back with the report. I looked at the ceiling. I walked over to the glass case of items that was all about death, deceased, skulls including pictures of drawings of people that had died with no name. I quit looking in that direction and went back to standing at the window. Then the tears started quietly rolling down my cheeks again. I kept thinking when will it stop being so hard. I was standing at the medical examiner’s office window waiting for a paper that would detail what caused my son’s death. It is kind of a reason to cry. So I cried and I wiped the tears away as they handed me what I was waiting for. I said, “Thank you” and walked out the door.

I was afraid to look. I was sick to my stomach. I got in my car and I did a quick glance. I couldn’t wait. It was Lisergic Acid Diethylamide, LSD. It was the real stuff. It wasn’t synthetic like I thought. They found LSD in my son’s blood. It is easier to buy the synthetic forms nowadays. For those of you that don’t know, you cannot overdose on LSD. The deaths that occur from using pure LSD are from the psychological effects which cause behaviors that result in death. LSD is a psychedelic – it messes with your brain. The synthetic form of LSD that is more readily available on the street and online is killing kids by its physical effects and its cause of behaviors as well. I’ve asked many questions of a few men my age who have done acid. They have stories of seeing bad trips or having them themselves. People huddled in corners thinking something is coming for them, seeing things that weren’t there, not knowing any kind of reality.

Now what? Now I have more questions. And I will keep asking til there aren’t any more to ask. This drive to know has caused me to look at ME. I have been asked, “What does it matter?” “Why do you need to know?” I reply “I just do.” I want to know everything I can know about that night and early morning. I want to know as much as I can until I can’t know. It won’t bring him back for me to know. Riley is gone. I want to understand as much as I can and maybe that reflects on me in some ways. I want to know.

If you are considering trying LSD, take a look at this video. If you have questions about LSD, this video might help answer them. Feel free to email me or comment on my blogs.