I have been gone awhile from my blog. I would say it is because grief has it’s stages. When I began writing here, it was healing to talk about how I was feeling and to share my memories of Riley. There is a lot of navigating needed in grief.
I would like to think that I have always met my grief of losing Riley head on. I saw a counselor right off the bat. I have done a lot of self checking over the past 5 years by stepping in to a counselor’s office or just a self check making sure I was on the healthy side of what I was feeling and how I was tackling my grief each day.
One of the things you’ll notice people who have lost a child say is, “say his name.” You who have not lost a child wonder do you mention the lost child and wonder, when is it okay to mention them and when is it not? I actually hesitate myself with my own immediate family. How will they accept this feeling if I say it out loud? Is it a day they don’t want to go there? So I wonder too.
But I would say, without a doubt………I love hearing someone say Riley’s name. I don’t want you to forget Riley. I don’t want you to forget Riley’s story.
So why I haven’t been here writing is because it increasingly got harder to pull up memories and feelings at some point. It was better to avoid them to manage my life. Not that they aren’t always there because they always are. But to pour it out here on my blog, took time and thoughts and tears. So, I quit and stopped making time to write. That’s the honest gest of it.
I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again. Everyone grieves differently. Everyone’s stages may look different. Some of us move as fast as we can (I think men do that more than women) and some of us stay in each stage of grief longer or do a repeat of hanging on to some of those stages. It is what it is. As long as you aren’t being self destructive or are in trouble mentally, going through the grief of losing a child is personal.
Pacing in my apartment, surrounded with people the day Riley died, I kept thinking I can’t make this better. This isn’t ever going to be better. This pain is going to stay. I was right.
For whatever reason, I’m ready to write again. I have so much to tell you. There’s been like years of speaking, a grandson born and more- much more. If you follow me on Facebook, you’re caught up. If you’re not caught up, hang on I’m fixing to tell you all about it!
Life’s a journey and I am taking one step at a time.
I Love You, Riley.
You know how I say memories of Riley sneak up on me and knock me to the floor? Opening a box of a Scrabble game that I had brought with me to Kentucky did that. In an unsuspecting moment on a Sunday afternoon, I pulled the box out of the drawer. I hurried to open it to see if all of the pieces were in there. Games that were once a part of a family and have gone through years of being played sometimes lose their parts.
The reality of my age has hit hard this year. I just had a birthday and all of a sudden I am feeling weathered, withered, creaky with a swooshy brain. Parts of me have been creaking for a while now, but it’s just this new number that even sounds old. Recently when I complained about some strange symptom I had, my boyfriend said, “It’s because we are old.” Notice he says “we” as if that is going to lighten the shock of the statement. It doesn’t. He can be old. I don’t want to be old! I am not ashamed of the years I have lived, 52, or the year I was born, 1965. I just don’t like that old part. I mean, I don’t want to be.
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.
Saturday mornings…they are my favorite. The work week is over except not in my case because social media does not ever close for business so neither do I. A load of clients, deadlines and another project handed to me when I think I am seeing the end of the tunnel fills my day. Then there is the fact that I should have said,”No” and am kicking myself right into my favorite day of the week. I am hopeful that Sunday is a day of rest. That’s what God said it should be.
One of Riley’s self portraits that he made in grade school hangs in my office. It hung up in the loft of our home for many years pinned by a magnet to a catch-all board there. I have always loved it because there it is….. THAT’S Riley.
R “Really good looking” He was. I love his self confidence! He was cute as a button as a baby and as a teen he lit up a room. His smile, his pretty blue eyes, that luscious blonde hair- you couldn’t miss him. One of his classmates told me a story after he died of how Riley told her daily that she was beautiful. She said she began to believe him after hearing it over and over. Those words changed how she saw herself. He charmed us all from birth on.
I “Intelligent” Yep, he was intelligent. School was not hard for him. Getting him to do homework was another story. Tests came easy. He was accepted to college and was thinking about chemical engineering. He built computers. He loved intelligent conversation and savored in the shock factor of the arguments he entered into. He looked for the opportunity to discuss anything from music to politics and religion.
L “Likes Pizza” Yep! It was his favorite food. If you gave him a choice what do you want for dinner, it would be pizza 90% of the time. We made homemade pizzas for special occasions. I have many memories around a meal of pizza with Riley. I have a great memory of having pizza with him at a nice restaurant the year he died – how he ordered, what he chose, how he handled himself and the ‘Thank you’ I received after.
Y “Yippee!” Of course Yippee! That was Riley- smiles, hugs of lifting you off of your feet, causing laughter where ever he was, his excitement for living and the enjoyment of being with him in any circumstance. His smiles, his attitude about life, his unconditional love was contagious.