Pizza For Superheroes

March 4, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Pizza- Riley’s favorite food. I wonder what he was doing with that fork. Surely he wasn’t bothering with a fork to eat his pizza. We were at a big slice pizza place at the beach in San Diego on vacation. Riley was in heaven with that big ol piece of pizza as big as his plate. Pizza! Yum! When we saw this picture, we talked about going back to the pizza place to show them it. For sure they would want it hanging on their wall for an advertisement of their restaurant. Look at that face! What a cute kid he was! I mean who wouldn’t melt just looking at this picture? Wouldn’t they want a piece of pizza too?

Those were the days that Riley wore his Superman cape, baseball hat and cowboy boots daily. He also had pajamas with capes attached to them. I can see him now dressed in his pajamas running through the house with wide long strides. His arms swinging with his small hands tight in a fist while his cape was flowing behind him. He would stand on the couch with his hands resting on his hips, chest pushed out, looking around the room for anyone in distress to save in his imaginary world. Then in a sudden move, he would leap off the couch and go running as fast as he could across the room looking back to make sure his cape was flowing. Riley moved from one Superhero to the next. He had a Batman year. He had a Superman time and he also had a Spiderman time in his life. Oh, I love him. I wish his Superhero powers could have saved him from his fate that day.

From the stories told to me, Riley, even as a teen, was often looking for those in distress to save. Many times he approached someone who was crying, even strangers. The stories are of situations in which he took the hurt and the pain away by Riley being Riley. He was unique, creative, sincere. He took the time to talk. He gave away smiles. He gave hugs. He caused laughter. He saved lives.

It has been 10 months today since Riley died. I’d like to say it gets easier, it doesn’t. I seem to get better at diverting my thoughts in order to survive/function each day. Yet sometimes remembering a Riley moment hits me and throws me to the ground. At those times, I have to lay there and take it, accept it, feel it and wash myself in tears for a while. It is survival of the fittest to handle the grief of losing a child. Some days I do it better than others.

Pizza is how we celebrated with Riley. Most of his birthday dinners, by his choice, involved pizza. We had pizza when he got his letter of acceptance to NAU. There were too many times to count that we bought pizza for his friends who gathered at our house to watch movies or swim in our backyard. In that same backyard, some of those friends gathered and smoked weed when we weren’t there. It’s just weed they say. Everyone does it. What’s laced in the weed? Where did it come from? Is it synthetic? Are you sure? It’s not just taking acid that is like playing Russian roulette. How many stay at just smoking weed? How many go and try something else? That’s what I want to know.

Riley wanted to try something else. His first try of acid killed him. Riley was an extraordinary human being that made a difference in many lives by being Riley while he was alive. I can only hope that he can help others through the story of his death so that they won’t die too. Drugs kill whether it is in addiction that many didn’t plan on and then can’t shed or by getting a bad batch of something or the wrong mix of drugs or the unknown drug that they didn’t know they were taking or a drug causing death by violence or an accident to themselves or someone else. The stories are vast and too many.

Riley, my pizza lovin’ son who was a blessing for many by still being a superhero til the day he died would say it’s not worth it.

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.

The Chair

January 5, 2015 / djuanadreed / 7 Comments

Here I sit at my desk, in my office, looking out my window at a winter day in Kentucky. I haven’t left the cabin in two days and am still in my pajama bottoms. This is where I pictured myself writing when I bought the cabin. I kinda feel like I finally made it to this spot. The furniture has been in my garage for months and the desk is very heavy so I had to wait for help to get it in here. My office is cluttered and very unorganized. But the desk is where I dreamed it to be. I’m sitting in Riley’s chair. It still smells like him. He lived in this chair sitting at his desk listening to music, playing music on his guitar- heck he learned to play guitar from this chair. He gamed on the computer, did homework and even when friends were over, they were often gathered around him in his chair looking at the computer and listening to music. If Riley was home and awake, he most likely was in this chair at his desk.

When I first brought it into the cabin, I rolled it into the middle of the family room, sat sideways in it and twirled it around and around. I put my nose to the back of the chair and breathed in his scent. I ran my hands along the arm rests and felt the wear and tear on them where his arms laid once upon a time. I tried to feel Riley. It has that chair sound. You know, that creak not a squeak when you lean back in it. There’s a bit of cat hair from his cat, J (named after Dinosaur Jr’s lead singer, J Mascis) tucked in where the back of the chair meets the seat. I think I’ll tuck it back in there. I told him “No” every time he asked for a cat then one day, we were looking at horse property and there was a stray kitten. After the second time of seeing the kitten at that property, I said “Let’s take it home” and we did and we gave him to Riley. That was a happy day for Riley.

Now I am writing about Riley from his chair. I sure wish he was still in it. All the times I tracked up the stairs to talk to him while he sat in this chair. I brought him medicine when he was sick and laid it in front of him on his desk. I sat quietly next to him listening as he played his guitar. I yelled from another room, “What’s the name of that song?” when I heard something he was listening to that I liked. I talked to him while he sat in this chair. Sometimes hard conversations. Sometimes it was Do you have homework? How was your day? conversations.

In the early morning hours of the day he died, some time after he had taken the LSD, he wrote the following from this chair. It appeared just like this.

May 3, 2014

i remember what joy feels like

i now know what it means

what it means to be happy

i swear

i figured it out

i’ve been waiting all my life

it’s happening

guh

i can’t stop smiling

acid

Several hours later, Riley made a phone call seeking help. They didn’t answer. I have been told you can think an acid trip is gone and it can come back with intensity. A trip can go bad. He typed a text message to a girl across the country in reply to her Happy Birthday message to him, saying “On Acid” then another right after, “Halp” (spelled just like that). Not long after that, he shot himself. The toxicology report says, he died from the gunshot wound. The medical examiner added “Note: The findings and totality of the circumstances in this gentleman’s case indicate his injury was self-inflicted. However, in light of the high concentrations of the hallucinogen LSD in his blood, in my opinion , the manner of death is best classified as undetermined.” You see Riley thought he bought a tab of 185 mcg of acid which the dealer bought online. The dealer being a high school kid- same school, same choir. The tab actually contained 950 mcg- that amount in one body was more than the medical examiner had seen in the 30 yrs of doing his job.

The drug dealer still deals drugs. The company still sells its drugs online. Kids are still buying drugs and experimenting with them. Riley won’t ever sit in this chair again.

Kids are dying from drugs. How do we stop this? I ask. How many more parents will lose a child by a drug? It only takes one time.

I HATE DRUGS.

I Love You, Riley.

One Holiday Down, One More To Go

December 16, 2014December 23, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

As I sit at a dead stop watching a train go by at a railroad crossing on a back road in Kentucky, I think of the crossroad I am at of two very painful holidays this year. One holiday down, one more to go! I can’t help from be impatient in my seat anxious for the cross bars to come up so that I can move on. It is the same kind of wait for the holidays to pass.

Christmas has always been my most favorite holiday. I love everything about Christmas. The lights, the decorations, the baking of cookies and sweets, and the giving. I love to give! As I finish dropping off gifts for children in need in the area, as I finish gathering gifts for my friends and family, there is only a numb feeling on my insides. I move through the motions. I do the things I think I am supposed to, the things that brought me joy every year yet the joy is not within reach this year.

I have decorated the outside of my cabin with big obnoxious multicolored lights. I have baked my traditional cookies and sweets. I have put up a live tree that smells wonderful and has soft pine needles. Mostly Riley ornaments hang from the branches of my Christmas tree. That is about all I have here. I brought with me part of the ornaments I had bought him each year since he was born. A tradition I had for the kids was that I bought an ornament for each one of them that represented their age, their likes and interests. My thinking was that they would have ornaments to take with them when they moved out and had a Christmas tree of their own. Riley’s ornaments will stay with us. He won’t be taking them and putting them on his tree some day like I had planned.

My Christmas tree sits by my fireplace burning warmly. My cabin smells like a camp fire. All of the new here doesn’t keep me from remembering the old. Oh how I miss my kids this year. I will hold two of them again. I wish to God that my boy was still here, alive, breathing, smiling, laughing and entertaining us with his ever present personality. I cry and I cry. I ache and I ache for him. Christmas will never be the same. My life will never be or feel the same.

I think of Riley’s smile as he opened presents. He was just as vibrant at age 17 on Christmas morning as he was when he was 7. Always thankful for his gifts even as he opened the boxes of clothes though you know he was anxious to get to the good stuff.

When he was young, he was the first to wake up. We would give him the go ahead to sort the presents and make our piles of gifts around the tree so that we could have a little more sleep. Then when he let us know that he was done, we would get up, wake up the teenagers and take our spots around the tree. Our tradition was to open presents youngest to oldest. Riley was the first to open a gift each year. He opened his last Christmas gift ever last year. We didn’t know. He didn’t know.

I wish Riley was opening a present from me this Christmas morning. I am glad that I cannot see his empty spot next to the tree. If only he could give us the gift of being here this year.

Just let it be over. Let the stabbing memories of this time of year pass. As the train passes, as I think the crossing bars will raise, another train comes going the other direction! That is where we are this year. Waiting for another Riley memory to pass with yet another one on its way. Though Riley memories give us smiles, the pain that there won’t be another moment in time created with him in it is the uncomfortable stabbing reality of now on. Riley’s choice to try acid on his 18th birthday ended his life and changed our lives, our holidays forever.

Riley, a graduating senior in high school, accepted to NAU, band kid, choir kid, computer whiz, entertainer for anyone in his presence by guitar, jokes, smiles and hugs, a brother, a son won’t sit underneath another Christmas tree and open a present. If only kids would realize that messing with drugs of any kind is dangerous.

Do you really know what is in that joint, pill, tab? Do you know what it will do to you? That possible high, that idea of an experience cannot be worth the outcome of what might happen. It happened to Riley. It is not worth it.

I Love You, Riley.

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It’s Snowing!

November 19, 2014November 23, 2014 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

It is snowing. There was no grace period. One day it was sunny and working outside weather and the next it is cold and I am scrambling to layer up to stay warm. I am sitting by the window watching this light fluffy white stuff float down and stick to the ground. The green grass is slowly turning white. I will have to take Bert out in it today. Bert came out of Pennsylvania as a pure bred Bouvier puppy. He hasn’t seen snow since he was 8 weeks old. He is 6 now. He was definitely hot in Arizona always looking for cold spots on the tile to lay. With his furry coat, he is equipped to be in the snow. Already as the weather has changed to cold, he has been out in the yard laying in it when I am bundled up shivering. As I get acclimated to the cold and wonder if I am going to be able to handle being cold, he seems to be saying, “Finally I am comfortable, bring it on. ”

I have never started over in a new place before. I am not comfortable yet. I wonder how long it will take til I am for I know this is where I should be. I am very uncomfortable when I think of Riley. For me, time is not something that makes the pain less. I cry more. I ache for him more. I work harder at diverting my thoughts to get through those moments, minutes, hours, days of pain. I am not very good at diverting right now.

Too often these days I wake up and immediately start to cry. Riley is now in my dreams. He hadn’t reached them yet until now. I see him walking into a room with his soft blonde hair flowing as he moves. I see his face with that grin he had. I hear people patting him on the back and chatting with him. He looks at me with that twinkle in his eye. I can almost smell him. I hug him in my dreams and feel his soft skin. We have short conversations like we did, like he is still here. It feels so good to see, hear and touch him. It is like it should be. Just like it was. I wake and only reality is here with me. He is not here anymore. And it hurts. It hurts real bad. It is a stabbing ache of an empty space without him.

I love my boy with all of my heart, well what is left of my heart. There is a chunk of my heart gone now. I hold that stuffed dog which was not a favorite stuffed animal of his. It is just a soft dog that I bought him one year that sat on a shelf for years. I grabbed it and kept it with me because it was something to hold when I am sad and missing him. I have a broken leather belt loop that I hold too, a guitar pick, a rock he had saved sits by my sink with the other rocks the kids had gathered and given me over the years. Two of the rocks are naturally shaped like hearts. Handed to me by my children as a treasure found. I hold the rocks randomly. I pass Riley’s picture, touch it and tell him that I love him. Sometimes I wail and cry hard. Sometimes I cry softly letting the tears fall down my cheeks.

As I watch my news-feed on Facebook, I see more stories of young adults who have died from drugs. I feel for their parents. I know the pain and anger that they feel. My sweet baby boy is gone and each day it gets harder. My strength decreases with time. My stamina deteriorates and I wonder how I will survive the loss of my son. Even when I declare that I will survive, there are moments I don’t care if I do. Then I remember this happened for a reason and I will make the most of this tragedy to help others. I must.

As Bert digs his nose in the snow trying to figure out what this fluffy white stuff is, I dig my nose in to figure out life without my son. This experience is not fluffy or white, it is hard, dark and just plain unwanted. I had no grace period. One day Riley was here and the next he was not. I do not think, Bring it on! I think, Can’t we go back? One step at a time, I go on. One stinking step at a time.

I will continue to share Riley’s story in hope that his story will steer a person in a different direction then to try drugs. Riley was a good kid that made a bad decision. That’s usually how it begins.

I love you, Riley.