I am on a road trip. I just had my nose pressed up against the glass watching fireworks going off from my fourth story hotel room in Tulsa, Oklahoma. I enjoyed the unexpected show of exploding colorful lights in the night sky. This is quite a road trip for me.  It is not a planned road trip. There has been no forethought to the whats, wheres, and whens of this trip. I packed up my car and left with a printed map off the internet and an ending destination on the GPS in my car. All I knew it was 1,823 miles and that it would take an estimated 28 hours and 6 minutes.  As I drove out of town, I drove by a little auto shop that did not appear busy. I pulled in and said “I’m leaving right now for Kentucky, will you check my fluids and my tires?” The young man said, “Really? That’s a serious cross country road trip. You are braver than I am.” I thought, “Wait!  What? No, don’t think about it, Djuana.  Just Go.”

When my car’s once over was complete, I did “Just Go” with a cooler full of ice and water bottles, a flashlight, a bag of potato chips, the largest bag of almond M&M’s that I could find, a soft stuffed dog of Riley’s to hug if needed and a conscious decision to not think as I pulled onto the highway. You should know that I am a planner. I over plan. I tend to think of every possible incident and try to prepare for it. I do that every time I prepare for a trip. I do that over planning about allot of things that come my way. Not this time, I just went knowing I need a break and I knew exactly where I should go for it.

What a beautiful thing this spur of the moment decision has been for me. As I drove toward Flagstaff, I was singing out loud to a song on the radio. I thought to myself, “Hey, I feel lighter!” Low and behold I was smiling too. A smile and a spontaneous one at that. That hadn’t happened for me in awhile. My grief sits on me like a heavy load day and night. Smiles happen, of course, but one that comes with a light feeling instead of that heavy load I’ve been feeling while belting out a song on the radio felt good.

Let me add to this whole road trip scenario and tell you that I hate road trips. I mean, I really do not like road trips. This road trip sounded good to me for some reason. As I have thought about this light feeling I am experiencing while driving along, I have decided this road trip is about so much more than getting from point A to point B.  This trip may be about the freedom of trying a new thing out of my comfort zone. This road trip may be about control. I have learned over the years that my kids will make decisions that I agree with and ones that I do not agree with. I have learned in my years of parenting that at this point, I have little control. This was very evident on May 3rd when Riley died. I gave it my best shot in talking to him about drugs as often as I could.  He knew better. I told him. I warned him. He made his decision despite those talks. Having two other children who have entered adulthood, I have seen good decisions and poor decisions in the repertoire of their decision making.  Riley’s mistake was a whopper that ended his life. I had no control in the decisions Riley made that night. I wish there was a rewind button for him to have a redo to make a different decision.  I imagine that he wishes for that too. I want to scream loud enough telling Riley’s story to stop other kids from the same fate. The consequence of death from drug use happens and happens too often. I hate it. I hate drugs. But right now I have the freedom and control of driving, stopping to see some scenic view,  listening to the music I want to listen to, eating what I want to eat, and not feeling bad for having to stop to tinkle a zillion times.

The color green and the moisture of the air is growing the farther I drive from the desert of Arizona. Today as I drove, I spent a good amount of time with one hand out the top of my open sunroof  feeling the cooler air. I dug through my CD case for something different to listen to and found a CD that said “From Ri ” on it. I put it in and once it started playing, I smiled big. It was songs by Reel Big Fish that he had burned on a CD for me several years ago. Listening to the songs reminded me of that time in his life. He enjoyed going to a couple of their concerts. I vividly remember the conversations we had about their music. Surprises of Riley memories happen often. Sometimes they bring smiles, sometimes they bring tears but I am glad for them to occur in the moments that they do.

I’ve been on the road for two days, I have driven about 600 miles a day yet I’m not tired of driving. Tomorrow I should get to my destination. I am almost sad it is over, but then I eventually have to drive back to Arizona! The ending to my road trip is a place I can have tranquility in the woods. I need that. There are sights, sounds, smells and lots and lots of green that I really enjoy. Life won’t stop while I am sitting in the woods writing.  I am taking the pain of Riley’s death with me on this road trip as it is wherever I am. I can not run away from it. At night in the hotel room, I feel the sadness. It is still there. When I get driving on the highway each day, I get that relief again. I’m thinking I cannot keep driving like this but I can be thankful for it right now. I miss Riley like crazy. The pain seems to get worse as time passes. There are times that I still wonder how I will survive the loss of my sweet baby boy. Tomorrow, I will keep singing out loud, feeling the cooler air in my face, breathing better and enjoying the driving with my unexpected moments of joy. I’ll take those however or where ever I get them.

I Love You, Riley.