Here I Am

photo 3 (41)The beauty of Fall leaves is every where I look. The smell, sound and feel of rain, the surprise of bugs, spiders, and big fat worms crawling across my path causes me to take a larger step or make a stomp. The chill in the air, dew on my lawn with the morning sound of birds chirping. The evening sounds of buzzing bugs, cow moo’s, and coyote howls. The shining stars and a moon looking over me in the pitch dark of the night.  The sound of a train horn as it rolls down the track in the distance. The thrill of driving on rolling hills and back roads, the warmth, color and light of a bon fire.  Braden’s visit, the content feeling of having my son close to me in my new space. The anticipation of having Bria here to hold her hand and cuddle with me as we girl talk for hours. Bert, our family dog who is warm and soft like a rug and constantly under my feet.  He is company. Cuts and scrapes on my hands sting from an instant decision to tackle trimming a fence line which lacked the smart decision of using gloves. I have made it to my log cabin in Kentucky.

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Here I am. I have relocated, but often it feels surreal as if I’m going through motions. It is amazing to me how differently we live in different parts of the country. Attitudes, demeanor, language are different here compared to the city. With that said, it does feel like this is where I am supposed to be stretching and growing. I take note of  the sights, smells, sounds and touch of new things here. The loss of Riley continues to penetrate me like an invasion I do not want. I do want him to sit on my porch and play his guitar. I want him to come around a corner and give me a big Riley hug lifting me off of my feet and holding me for awhile. What I want and what is, is not the same.

I woke up last week with an idea of making an appointment to meet with the principal of a local school to talk about telling Riley’s story here. My job is not done to look for avenues to spread the reality of the dangers of drugs to teens. I don’t believe Riley consciously intended to hurt himself.  Yet it happened. He is gone because of a choice to try LSD. Knowing my son, I believe he thought he was in for an experience on his 18th birthday that he would not forget. That experience ended his life. His choice is now my experience as a parent.

Yesterday I was sitting on my porch, I absent mindedly reached down, touched my necklace and proceeded to cry while I held it. On my necklace hangs Riley’s thumbprint. On the back it says, My Son, My Love, Riley. I cried quite hard for awhile. I had not cried a whole lot about Riley since I left Arizona. All of the new things and duties of moving has kept me busy. I’m still not done unpacking. Interestingly I was grumpy and felt tired yesterday. The cry helped. It was a release I didn’t even know I needed til it happened. I continue to wish that this isn’t real, that it didn’t really happen. It is a bad nightmare that I cannot wake up from. There is no hope that I will wake up from this. It is something I have to live with the rest of my life. I hate it. I hate it so very much.

I have felt a twinge of guilt for not crying as much since I arrived here. The ache, the pain still is there. I go to open a box and when it is of Riley keepsakes, my heart skips a beat. I have closed some boxes til another day. Am I supposed to live out the rest of my days in sadness? I know I will. I asked the grief counselor before I left Arizona if I would feel joy again despite the grief. I like joy. I miss the pump of my heart when I am happy. I miss belly laughs. She said, “Yes, it will come in spurts”. I feel content, but that hop, skip and jump of a heart beat as a result of happy hasn’t appeared again since the day that he died.

My heart is definitely still beating. I am still alive. What am I going to do now that I am missing a part of me? What am I going to do with this life that God has given me? I am going to breath deep filling up my lungs. I am going to take in whiffs of the new smells here. I am going to taste new foods. I am going to keep my eyes open being aware of what is around me, listen intently, touch what is before me and continue to take One Step at a Time. I’m going to keep fighting for other teens to not make the fatal mistake Riley did. Here I am.

I Love You, Riley.

 

Clean Sheets

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! <div style="float:right;">

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.photo 4 (26)

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!

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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!photo 2 (50)

 

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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A Trip to the M.E.

IMG_5240-LAs 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.

I Love You, Riley.

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My Name: Riley Reed Peterson

Scan0115I found this treasure in a box of pictures. It is a sort of handmade puzzle Riley made. I think he was a first grader. It is hand cut in different shapes with a question in each piece. Each question has Riley’s handwritten answer. It is a sort of who is Riley type of project.  His answers are candid and true to who Riley was at age 6. What a great age! I see the twinkle in his eyes when I think of Riley at age 6.

My Name:  Riley Reed Peterson. (I love that he wrote his whole name.) My Birthday: May 3rd. (Yep, the day he was born……. and died.) My favorite animal:  a prona and a shark (He loved the water.) My favorite food: An ice cream sunday  (Of course!) Where I was born: Scottsdale, AZ  (He was 7 lbs 7 oz, 21″ long and born during a Phoenix Suns playoff game.) My favorite book: Wackey Wednesday and Capt. Underpants (Copies of those books are still on his bookshelf in his room.) What I like most about our school:  the cafeteria and the playground. (For sure those are the best parts of school.) What I do well:  Beat my grama at checkers. (I can see the pride on his face now.) My wish: That I was rich and I had a dirt bike and a million dirt bike stadiums. (He had big plans starting at a young age!)

I think Riley Reed Peterson who was born on May 3rd, who loved the water and to swim had outgrown his interest in sharks and piranha’s. (Note how much of a little boy that is to like dangerous water animals!) He favored elephants as a teen. He wasn’t a big fan of ice cream anymore though he never wavered from his love of pizza.  In that hospital in Scottsdale, Riley took his time arriving into this world. Braden had come so quickly. When my water broke, Braden was delivered in minutes. I was prepared for Riley to be a replay of my quick delivery of his big brother. It was not at all. It took medication and waiting for Riley to arrive thus Greg had time to watch the Suns playoff game while we waited. He did eventually arrive in due time- Riley timing. Riley enjoyed reading Captain Underpants books at that age. Me too!  At 17, he enjoyed books that made him go “Hmm” and contemplate deep questions that have no answers. I think Riley still thought the world was his playground. He traded playing checkers with Grandma  for playing chess at Coffee Rush with whomever was up for the challenge. He often beat his opponents at chess too. Riley gave up his love for dirt bikes for an interest in cars, guitars, vinyl, and computers among many other things.  I imagine that he is pretty ticked that he didn’t get to the rich part. I fully expected Riley to reach his goals he had set for himself. He dreamed big. I loved that about him. I don’t think anyone should put limits on their dreams- they happen.

Forever May 3rd will be a painful day for us. What once was a day to celebrate his life now will remind us of the end of his life.  A curious 3 year old that drew on the back of my leather couch with an ink pen.  A curious 7 yr old who almost was successful in peeing off the balcony of a top floor hotel room. A curious 12 year old that spent hours learning the ins and outs of computers. A curious 14 year old started the process of teaching himself how to play guitar. A curious 17 year old tried a drug labeled as acid that had promises of a psychedelic spiritual experience. That last bout of curiosity killed him. Curious isn’t bad. We learn from our curiosity and mistakes made. This is a lesson of curiosity that was a mistake. A fatal one. That is a puzzle piece of Riley’s life that has been written that I will never be able to fully accept.

I Love You, Riley Reed Peterson.

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Time

clock-331174_640Harvey MacKay said, “Time is free, but it’s priceless. You can’t own it, but you can use it. You can’t keep it, but you can send it. Once you’ve lost it you can never get it back.”

Time stood still when Riley died. I didn’t know what day it was for the first month. I was in such a task mode at first.  I dragged myself out of bed, showered and moved forward. The funeral plans kept me moving.  Then the funeral was over and I feared what was next. What was next was  pain that had gotten larger. The ache inside me got to a new level. I wondered how I would be able to  function but I did function. I cried. I wiped my tears and moved slowly across my day. Each step is heavy. This grief thing is like carrying a heavy load. There is no getting it off your back. It’s always there.

Two and a half months later, I think time is my enemy. The pain is becoming stronger with time. How much worse can it get I wonder. It hits me out of the blue. A Riley memory happens, the pain floods through me and then poors out. One evening I was looking for a picture that my daughter asked me to send her.  I came across a file on my computer of pictures from a Thanksgiving a few years ago that I hadn’t seen in a long time. There was Riley…. younger, his hair not even touching his shoulders with his arm around me smiling at the camera. I broke out in tears. I couldn’t stop crying. You know the swollen eyes, snot stuffed up in your nose you can’t breath kinda hard cry?  It was one of those cries. It’s the realization that hits. He is not here. He will not be here. He is gone forever.

When I open my Facebook page and see my cover photo of him in one of his senior pictures that was taken only two weeks before he died, I ache to touch his face. It  makes me so pickin’ mad that he won’t be looking at me again with a Riley grin. It is so real now that I won’t ever touch him again. I don’t want it to be real. I was hoping it wasn’t. I kept hoping I would wake up and he was back. If its only been this amount of time and it hurts this bad, how much worse can it get? 

The pain of losing your child has to be the worst pain anyone ever has to go through. I am sure of it I’m angry that this happened, just really really angry. My sweet baby boy had a life ahead. Taken from him by a drug. A pill. The culture we live in promises drugs are cool. Smoking pot is the norm among teens today. Teens of all peer groups smoke pot-legal or not, they smoke it. Why not go for a different high and see what that is like?  How about mix a few drugs and see what happens? It’s cool right? No, its not. No, its not when the drug causes harm to yourself or someone else. It can end a life. Riley’s story is not rare. It happens. Too often it has happened. It can and does happen by that one try.  I HATE DRUGS.

How can I get this message out? How can we make sure that the risk is known that every time a drug is smoked, snorted, inhaled, or swallowed death can occur? Time is defined as “the indefinite continued progress of existence and events in the past, present, and future regarded as a whole.”  There is no continued progress of existence or events  for Riley. Time for me as a parent exists, but it is skewed to a point that I don’t know how to exist and progress without my son. Riley lost time forever by one decision to try a drug. Tell Riley’s story to the young and the old in your life. Tell it to the neighbors, the relatives, coworkers and the teens you know. Educate yourselves on the synthetic drugs that are out there being sold by online labs to dealers who don’t give a crap what’s in it or the outcome of its use. Talk to your kids.

I Love You, Riley.

And it all began

And it all began

Riley… Cute as a button, Easy as pie, Made me smile and It was easy to know why.