Age Is Mind Over Matter

April 14, 2015April 14, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

I have turned 50. What have I learned in 50 years on this earth? It’s all about how you look at it. You can only find happy and contentment from within. You can’t change people. People will disappoint you. Just when you think that person would never…you find out they did. Just because it looks one way, doesn’t mean that it is. You think you are safe, you’re not. Open your mind. Be still. Grief is individual. Life is short don’t waste a minute. Roll with the punches and stand back up.

Age is mind over matter. I forget that I am as old as I am. My mind and body don’t match up. I am still growing up. 50 years on this earth. I’m just now starting to live in a way I never imagined was possible with so much new around me. I was set in a life that was pretty good, but I stepped out on a ledge and dove head first. I was stomping in puddles and climbing trees with a newfound freedom of being me and then Riley died. That shook up my world to a point I never could have imagined. I am changed forever yet my insides are still there cooking, bubbling up and being fed in unexpected ways. Finding joy again is in the future they tell me.

Grief is a son of a bitch. I want my youngest son back. I don’t want the 50 years back. I don’t want to go back. I wouldn’t change a thing about my life to this point and I can’t change what happened to Riley. It is done. He is gone. Makes me angry. Makes me hurt beyond belief. The pain makes me want to quit and die too. It is true. But I want to see what happens next in my life. I just wish he had a life. I had planned to see him graduate from college, marry, have kids. I wanted to see what he would become, what he got to do, the life he would create. Yet, his life stopped. Mine continues.

As I am about to write a big check to the IRS which pisses me off, as I wonder about my income and my future. As I worry about making the right decisions as I make them on my own for the first time ever. I wonder what will my life look like ahead. I don’t know. I have one less child on earth. I have two more really great children who have whole lives ahead. I can’t wait to see what they do with theirs as their journeys continue. What will I do with mine? Why make plans? They change and get broken. How about I just go with it and trust life will take me where I am supposed to be. God knows.

This morning as I eat blueberry cream pie for breakfast. As I suffer from the sugar high that is on its way, I have to be thankful for 50 years lived. That includes the disappointment and severe inner pain. I will sit back and ride this life as it unfolds. Life is a journey. I know that more than ever. There are pit stops and corners to turn. I don’t know what the next 50 years will hold. I am hoping there are that many years to experience. I’m looking forward to joy, happy, healthy and watching my children’s lives unfold with joy being happy and healthy.

I’m looking forward to overcoming the challenges that I face right now and then meeting the new ones along the way. I can do this life. I know I can. It is a little emptier, a little lonelier and very unsure. Challenges create growth and I’m up for growth. I am more confident in myself than I have ever been. I am writing when I only dreamed of writing. I am living on my own when I only dreamed of living this way.

I am stronger than I ever thought. I am stronger than I wish I had to be. But it seems to be part of my journey is to face the unthinkable and to keep standing. It is all about mind over matter. So here’s to 50 years lived and 50 more!

I Love You, Riley.

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My Caterpillar

April 6, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

My dream has been to write in a log cabin in the woods some day. Now that I’m here at my desk looking out the window at the green grass and trees …what will I do with this opportunity?

One of the projects I have in the works is a children’s book. The main character is a purple elephant with a big grin and paisley feet named “Smiley Riley”. Purple was Riley’s favorite color. The elephant was one of his favorite animals. The character has emerged to fit him perfectly. I have an illustrator that I am working with to develop “Smiley Riley”. I have the theme of the first book. Now how do I write it? Various ideas rattle through my brain on how to go about telling stories to a pre-kindergarten audience. It’s a creative heart warming process for me.

In my research, I have spent hours sitting on the floor in the isles of my own childhood memories of books. Danville’s library is a red brick building with white trim. It stands majestically with nearby church bells tolling on the hour. It has a round foyer and staircases with white banisters. The children’s section is a relaxed area for fun around books. On each trip, I find a new part of the alphabet to look through. I crawl along the floor picking books that look interesting then sit in the isle and read. I pick books that I don’t turn past the first page and then I find others that make me smile and literally chuckle out loud as I read them.

I smile at the story line, the illustration and sometimes I smile because I read that book many times to my oldest daughter, Bria who is now 25. The books I remember treasuring as a child myself are still on the shelves and popular amongst the little eyes and ears who are sitting on their mother’s lap listening intently today. I read Goodnight Moon to Bria so many times. Braden liked any book about firetrucks. Riley liked the adventures of Corduroy, the bear.

Recently I was working and was distracted to Riley’s Facebook page. I was looking through photos he posted on his timeline over the years. I reveled in listening to his voice by comments he made. Remembering who he was and that humor of his that was so him. It was a wonderful hour of being next to Riley again. There was his voice in what he wrote, a video of him playing the tuba, his laugh and funny faces right there on my screen. And then there it was, he posted a photo of the book Corduroy by Don Freeman and another of The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. He was being nostalgic about his favorite books as a child. Eric Carle’s books had been on my mind. It is one of the examples of a book that has remained popular since Bria was born.

The next day, I went to the library and found The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle and checked it out. I got it home and I opened it. I read each page looking at the photos while remembering. I remembered the times of reading it to each of my children while they sat on my lap or sometimes a child was cuddled up close on either side of me and one little Riley was placed on my lap. I hadn’t thought of the story line of A Very Hungry Caterpillar in a very long time until the story unfolded with the turn of each page. At the end of the book, I cried. Tears rolled down my cheeks and hit that last page. At the end was a picture of a beautiful butterfly.

In some cultures, butterflies represent the soul. The souls of those who have passed away. The transformation from egg to adult. Riley was born and died on the same date. He lived. He laughed. He helped others. He shared his smile. He played his guitar and sang his heart out. He barely made it to adult by hours and then he was gone.

Riley had a good life. He had his teenage angst. He did things I wouldn’t have approved of. He did alot of things I did approve of. And his life was cut short by trying a drug. As our children grow older, they have the freedom of choice. To cross the road without looking both ways. To talk to strangers. To not put their seatbelt on when they pull out of the driveway. To text while driving. To have sex without a condom. To try a drug for a forbidden high.

There’s no way to beat it into their brains. My theory is that we educate them of the dangers out there and that they know the possible outcome of their choices. As they grow older, some of those warnings we have given make sense to them. Some of those warnings obviously don’t as our teens take chances. The teen brain says, “I am invincible. It cannot happen to me.”

Riley’s story says it can happen. We are not invincible. Drugs kill. Even on the first try. I hate drugs.

I Love You, Riley.

Sometimes You Have To Build A Snowman

February 23, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Sometimes you just need to hold on for one more day. Depression can hit at the most inopportune times. It can simmer awhile. You can keep it at bay and then all of a sudden it has overwhelmed you. That’s what happened to me. I hurt my back. Dangit, I don’t want to admit I am getting older, but I am. I see it. I feel it. I know it just by my sincere wisdom. Hey, don’t laugh! You can’t live this long and not know a thing or two about life. But in my mind, I am not old. Wasn’t I just twenty something? I swear I was just starting to have babies – wasn’t I? Now they are 25, 22 and forever 18.

Up to this point, I haven’t thought twice about what I am about to tackle, lift, carry, or reach for. I felt fine that night when I went to bed. I woke up and my back hurt! It hurt bad! This was new for me and I didn’t like it. Laying still with a heating pad for two days was terrible. I don’t do sitting still well. I napped while I laid there. I flipped through television everyone was shooting someone or dying. I had to turn it off. I don’t like television anyways. When I tried to read, the father was dying in the book. I had to close the book. I am so sensitive to death now. I talked to my dog, Bert. That didn’t go well for long. I bundled up, went outside and swang on my porch swing. The tears came out of nowhere. They wouldn’t stop.

Being still is not a good thing in the middle of grief. It’s awful- I think and I miss Riley. I miss all three of my kids. None of my kids are here with me. What I would do to touch, hug, kiss any one of them. Two of them I can touch again. One I know I will never again be able to feel in my arms, kiss and squeeze tight. The stark reality of that hurts worse than the back pain.

With the rest, my back started to feel better then we had snow. I got distracted. Being from the desert, I am in awe of all of this white stuff. I was smiling, breathing a sigh of relief for a bit then I thought again. I couldn’t leave the house with the weather as it was so I thought some more. I couldn’t find anything to move my mind to something else, but sad things, memories, the ache of wanting my boy back. The grief laid on me like a heavy blanket. It is knowing it is not going to get better tomorrow or the next day or next year. What is my purpose? Why am I here to face this every day? All of this was tormenting me.

I fell asleep. I slept deeply. I woke up better. I made it to another day. The snow was melting. I bundled up, found a patch of snow and made a snowman. I laid in the snow and stared at a blue sky with sun shining in my eyes. I enjoyed a moment. Oh the grief was still there, but I felt lighter.

Sometimes you just have to hold on for one more day. Sometimes you have to build a snow man. Collect your energy, build on it, baby it, feel the cold on your hands and the warmth later. Grief stinks. Those that haven’t gone through losing a child can’t get it completely. I hope that they never do. I don’t wish this on anyone and I’m sorry if you know my pain.

How do we survive this? Like collecting snow in your hands to build up a snow man, build up something to distract you. Concentrate on work, a project, family, something new, something old, something that feeds your soul. Baby yourself. Do not isolate yourself for too long. Find a grief support group of people who know and understand your pain. Like patting the snow, take care of you, do what you need to do. There is no shame in your tears, anger, sadness. Face the cold of the grief, it is here to stay. Embrace the warmth of putting your hands in your pockets and thawing out a little bit when you get a break. Know that a lighter moment like that can come and there will be more. You made it through another day.

You can do this. Step back and look at your snowman- what you have created, what you still have in the midst of your loss. First and foremost, you have you and you are worth the fight to survive this. Hold on! You, like me, can do one more day.

I love you, Riley.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Mom

February 14, 2015February 14, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Valentine’s Day, a day we express our love for someone special in our lives. Though I have shared a million and one “I love you’s”, kisses and hugs with my children, Valentine’s Day is a day that I set out to make sure it is a memorable one for them. In my eyes, traditions, making my children feel extra special each holiday and birthday has always been important. It is my job in the big and little scheme of raising my children. It is not a task on a list. I don’t have to. I want to. As they have grown, I have not yet given up attempting to make Valentine’s Day special for them. I haven’t decided when to let it go, but not yet.

As soon as the kids were old enough to know what day it was, I began traditions for Valentine’s Day. The day began as they woke up with a brown paper lunch sack sitting by their bed to be found before their feet hit the floor. Each year the night before, I gathered construction paper, crayons, markers, glue and ribbon. I sat on the floor and cut out hearts of construction paper. I used Red- a color meaning passion, love, Pink meaning soft, playful, Purple- dignity, independence and White- perfection, safety. All colors I want to give to them. I glued the hearts to the bag. I made my own artwork with their name, Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Mom & Dad and closed each bag with a ribbon laced through the top. Inside the bag was something small for them like a toy, a shirt, something new along with some candy.

The tradition didn’t stop there. When they were little, I cut their sandwiches into the shape of a heart. I packed their lunch boxes with a red juice, an apple or strawberries anything I could conjure up that was red or pink that they would eat. For dinner, the tradition was that the kids and I made heart-shaped homemade pizza. Each child decorated their pizza with toppings of their choice. As they got older and were at a sports practice, job or too lazy to help (darn teenagers), I continued to make the heart-shaped pizzas. It was tradition. That was our Valentine’s Day.

Not having the ability to leave the Valentine’s bag by their bed last year, I delivered their paper bags to them. In Riley’s Valentine bag decorated with his name, construction paper hearts and “Love, Mom” was a SNARK for tuning his guitar. I remember walking up the stairs to find him in the loft, in his chair with his girlfriend next to him. When I held out the decorated bag to him, he gave me his crooked, knowing grin. He said,” Thank you” as he pulled out his gift. I saw the SNARK clamped on his guitars often after that. I also saw his SNARK, touched it and left it in its place the very last time I was in his room as I left to get in my car to drive to Kentucky.

This year I mailed a gift to Bria and Braden. When I told Bria something was on its way for Valentine’s Day, she said, “Did you make a paper bag like always?” “Yes, I did!” was my reply. Bria is 25 now. Where ever she has been over the years, I have done my best to continue our Valentine’s tradition. Though Braden is in another state working today, my Valentine gift is there waiting for him. This year, if Riley were alive, he would have been in a dorm room in Flagstaff, Arizona at Northern Arizona University opening a box with his paper sack of candy and a treat from me in it. Perhaps his gift would have been something small that he needed while at college. I can imagine an array of things I might have sent to him.

Last night, I opened my box of keepsakes carefully. I looked at homemade Valentine’s cards from my children over the years. I held Riley’s tenderly knowing his little hands drew the pictures and wrote the words. His little hands that grew to be a man’s hands and then stopped growing. These keepsakes continue to be my gifts today. I smile and I’m pretty sure my eyes twinkle when I think of the age they were when they created them. Hold fast young Mom’s who are at their wit’s end chasing toddlers, in a blink of an eye, they are all grown up…. or gone forever.

Valentine’s Day, a day of love, represents to me my love for my children. Let there be no doubt, I am a proud Mama. These are three beautiful, wondrous creatures that are mine. Two on earth, one in heaven. This will have to be my paper bag decorated for you, Riley.

Happy Valentine’s Day! Love, Mom.

I Love You, Riley.

Meeting Eternity

January 19, 2015January 19, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

I’ve joined a closed group on Facebook called GRASP- Grief Recovery After a Substance Passing. The group exists for those that have lost a loved one as the result of substance abuse or addiction. The group is very large. Way too large. People post about their grief, their confusion, questions, anger, sadness. Often they post the date of when their loved one passed. This makes you realize how many have died because of drugs. How many died last week, last month, last year, two years ago, ten years ago. Even the date that Riley died has shown up.

People show support for each other in their grief, in their anger at the drug…heroine is one of the biggest culprits or a mix of opiates, but the common factor is death by a drug. I have realized that I really hate death. Before this, I had a belief that death was part of the circle of life. We come, we go. We live, we die. We are born into this world and we are to leave this world. Right now, death means an end to a life that I hold precious. That life of my child I want selfishly with me- here to touch, kiss, hug, talk to .

When children and young adults die, it is tragic. It is a life not finished. Riley made a huge impact on the lives around him. I would not have ever known the extent of how he touched lives if he was still alive. The stories told at the memorial that his classmates put together, the adults pulling me aside to tell me how he touched them and the private messages I have received give me a glimpse of Riley at a peer level -what he was like when he was not home and in my view. He was jovial and gave away hugs. He caused others- many strangers- to smile as he passed them in the hall of school just by his warm, goofy, what’s up smile. He stood up for the girl being bullied. He entertained a classroom. He brought on challenging conversations with teachers. He changed lives. He talked more than one from committing suicide. He helped a girl get through a teen pregnancy by being supportive and assuring her she could do this. He dried tears by diverting sad thoughts to better thoughts. To the boy who was an outsider, he showed him he should accept himself and how precious he is just as he is. Riley changed lives. Death took him from us at age 18. Too soon! Just imagine what else he would have done with his life…I can’t imagine now. There is no imagination to it. His life was stopped. My imagination of his future has stopped.

I read a post by a woman recently, a grandmother who is dying from cancer. She is facing her own death after losing her adult son to drugs. She expressed such dignity and grace about what she is facing right now. I am impressed. She is close to being reunited with her son yet she is holding on to the time she has here, now. She used the word eternity and it has made me think about the afterlife, the hereafter, everlasting life, where we go, what happens there. The bible says. The pastor says. We hope. We have faith that we will see our child again in a better place. A Heaven that holds no sorrow or pain. Timelessness.

I am in timelessness now. I forget appointments. I sit for hours without realizing it has been hours. There are moments I wish for death myself. Now. The pain, the loss I feel, how part of my heart is gone and it won’t come back or be replaced. Grief is an unyielding pain. There are days, sometimes even more than one in a row, that I am able to do okay and focus on work or something I am writing or yard work or how someone has really pissed me off, but then I sit still and remember… my sweet baby boy is gone. He has met his eternity.

So as I ponder the grace and dignity this woman shows while she faces meeting her eternity with the faith that she will see her son again, I would like to be able to face my life as it is now, without my son here to touch again, with grace and dignity until I meet my eternity. Knowing there are no guarantees of how long we have on this earth. Knowing that if I can make a difference while I am able to write and share Riley’s story. If I can muster my passion of working with abused and neglected children in the court system again. If I can create a children’s book with a purple elephant named Riley that leaves his paw print wherever he goes. If I can simply share a smile with a stranger like my boy did, then I’m doing pretty good. One single step at a time.

I Love You, Riley.

Clean Sheets

September 27, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

One week from today I am hitting the road and moving to Kentucky. I have purchased my very own log cabin in the woods to write in. As I get ready to leave, I am savoring the heat of Arizona summer and the convenience of McDonald’s french fries being a hop, skip and a step away. There’s a list of things, relationships, feelings, smells, sights I have soaked in as I know it all changes soon. I am a third generation native of Arizona and this is all I know. I picked a place that holds new and different experiences ahead. I am up for the challenge! Yet while I am here, I have had some hard tasks.

One of those is going through Riley’s pictures, school projects and papers that I had saved over the years. There have been many smiles as I pull things from boxes and files. Like this one which I absolutely love!

I also feel the sadness of seeing pictures of Riley as a baby and realizing at the moment the picture was taken, there was a promise of a life that would last to an old age. I counted on that. I assumed it. I dreamed of what his life would be like. I smile when I see the ‘I love you’s’ written to me from him over the years. From preschool age to 17, there are notes and messages telling me what I say to him daily.

If that hasn’t been hard enough, cleaning his room for the last time took a big toll on me. I finished it yesterday. Alot of tears have been shed in the last 48 hours being in that room. Alot of talking to Riley has happened. Mostly I tell him to please come back and that he should be here. In the last almost 5 months since he died, I have taken naps on his bed and laid there hugging his pillows. I have stood in the middle of the room and looked around for long periods of time absorbing the feel of his space and how he made it that. You can see what he loved in the space of his bedroom.

Now it was time to clean it up. The first task was to strip the bed and wash the sheets and comforter. His smell is gone now. I had buried my head in his pillows and cried over the past months. Now the sheets and comforter have a clean smell to them. That’s a familiar smell too but still, the last time he laid in that bed is gone. There were still dirty towels and the shorts he wore that night on the floor. I washed those too. It felt like a goodbye as I put them in the washer.

On his dresser there were tuxedo shirt buttons that I missed when I returned his choir outfits in May. Many times I had gathered those and made sure he had them for a choir concert. There were pens, pencils, concert stubs, receipts and a lot of dust. There was a receipt for dinner where he had taken his girlfriend on prom night only a week before he died and a short Golfland pencil that he had used to keep score when they went goofy golfing after prom. There were guitar picks sat on shelves, his desk and by his bed. Loose change, empty glasses, school passes and broken sunglasses. I picked these things up and organized them in a cup of change, a cup of pencils and pens. I threw away things like the broken sunglasses though even that was hard since they had touched his face at one time. He started wearing this exact style of sunglasses at a very young age! Look what I found!

I also found a treasure in a shoe box in Riley’s closet. His WWF wrestlers had been safely tucked away. Oh how Riley and his best friend, Ryan loved everything to do with WWF. He had a plastic wrestling ring and a pretend champion belt. I heard, “Let’s Get Ready to Rumble!” in my head as I held the plastic figures in my hand. I can picture Riley’s joy and I’m up to something grin as he and Ryan were running up and down the stairs playing and doing little boy things. We did have to keep an eye on those two!

The things that I have collected from his room to take with me remind me of parts of him. His gray and purple Vans that used to sit at the bottom of the stairs, an ASU sweatshirt I bought him to remind him of my alma mater knowing he was going to go to NAU. I have a guitar pick, books, his tuba mouthpiece, a rock he had saved along with all kinds of random tiny small things that were held by him at one point in time that will surely bring a smile and a tear to my eye in the days, months, years to come. I can pull them out when I need them. I have this sense of did I get everything I want to take with me? How do I pick the physical things that represent Riley as I leave? Did I get what I need? I’m not sure. The most precious and important things are in my head. That goes with me wherever I go.

As I finished dusting and vacuuming Riley’s room for the very last time with the sad realization that he is not going to come home and mess it all up, I stood back, looked at the clean space in front of me, cried a little more then took a deep breath. One step in front of the other! Just one step at a time is all that is needed. That I can do.

I Love You, Riley.

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