It is late at night  in a house in the woods in Kentucky. There are these awesome little bugs here that are called fireflies. They are a wonder. They blink. There are butterflies of all shapes and colors that come sit on my shoulder or stick to my pant leg. Everything is so very green here. I took a walk yesterday and came across a family of deer standing in my path. One big one turned around and stared at me for the longest time. I stood still and stared back. As I walked, a bull frog hopped across my path  and crossed over to the other side. A hawk flew over my head searching for prey. The stars shine bright at night in the pitch blackness with no street lights. There are sounds in the woods that I don’t recognize. I wonder what I am hearing. I know there are coyote out there leering. I am thankful for Koda, the Doberman that stands watch near me. There are daddy-long-legs walking about and spiders sitting in webs. Nature is beautiful.  Laying in the hammock in the shade under a tree with the breeze blowing  is heavenly. God made this place. I am thankful to be here.

I am here, but my head is not here a lot of the time. I smile and hold pleasant conversation.  I laugh at times. I find wonder in the little things around me and then I sink again to the pit of my grief for my son, my love, my Riley.  I love him so much. He was my sweet baby boy. I don’t know how this could have happened. I don’t know how he truly can be gone. I listen to the stories about Riley that come from adults as well as his peers. I hear stories about how he changed their lives by the things he did, what he said, by  his smile and his demeanor. That was My boy. He was a wonder in so many ways. His intelligence. His laugh. His musical talents. His computer skills.  He effected many lives in a good positive way by just being Riley daily. Why did this have to happen? Someone please tell me.

Sitting and listening to someone playing an acoustic guitar makes me think of Riley strumming on his. I think of how I would stop whatever I was doing and listen to him play.  I would be washing dishes and would stop, dry my hands and plop down at the kitchen table to listen. The tears well up in my eyes at the thought. It was a gift he gave me when he played his guitar and he didn’t even realize it. Sometimes he’d walk through the living room, stop at the electric guitar, turn the amp way up and play and I’d think, I like the acoustic guitar much better. I’m showing my age I fear with that statement. There was a time where he goofed around with the piano. He’d pick a song to play and mess with it without any music til he got it right. How about the time he decided that he needed to buy an organ, saved his money and sold a couple of his personal things to go buy a used one from a little old man. Watching him sing in the high school choir brought me such joy.

Tonight dinner was breakfast for dinner. I thought about the things I do with eggs and then the breakfasts I made which led me to think about what kid of mine liked what and then I cried. Riley memories make me cry. The memories of things I can’t have again that create silent tears rolling down my cheeks while my bottom lip quivers. I try to not hold the tears back but I probably need a walk in the woods to release some wales of crying to cleanse a little. It is not right to have to live without your child. It’s just not right. My sweet baby boy is gone and I can’t do anything about it.

Riley come back and play your guitar for me. I’ll make you some eggs. Please?

I love you, Riley.