Always Be Yourself

May 18, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

Riley and his best buddy.

Batman to the rescue with a little Star Wars help.

Riley’s ID badge for his NAU tour

Batman didn’t want his picture taken.

One of the things Riley is remembered for is encouraging others to accept themselves. That it is okay to be different. To love what makes you, You.

One of my favorite stories about Riley (and there are many) is that a friend of his was having a bad day. She was upset. He said, “You need a hug.” She said, “I am too big, you can’t pick me up.” He proved her wrong. He picked her up and he hugged her. He lifted her up in more ways than one with that hug.

Always Be Yourself! Be proud to be the Superhero that you are!

I Love You, Riley.

There’s No Rewriting History

May 11, 2015May 12, 2015 / djuanadreed / 2 Comments

I lost a blog that I spent all afternoon pouring myself into. I spent hours on it and when I went to save it, I lost it completely. No drafts available. No automatic saves appear. It’s as if I didn’t even type at all today. Nothing. It’s gone. I used great vocabulary and symbolism. It was a good one. I was happy with it and about ready to publish it.

Can I describe it again? Maybe. Can I rewrite it like it was? No. Do I want to drag all the feelings and thoughts up to try again? No! I don’t think so. I don’t think I can reproduce it again from scratch with the heart and soul I put into it in the moment.

Note to self: Remember to push ‘Save Draft’.

In frustration, I got up from my computer, drug my hammock out to the middle of my grass. I laid flat in the cool evening air staring up at the moon lit cloud ridden sky. I was there to relax after spilling all that out about Riley and my grief. As soon as I laid down and looked up, I thought of Riley. It didn’t take long until my bottom lip started quivering. I let it out- loudly. I cried. I let the sobs and screams pour out of me right there with the bugs buzzing and the mysterious critters out there in the dark watching me. I wish I could see past the clouds to see Riley. What I would give to see him again. Touch him again. Laugh with him again. I cannot.

Note to you: Remember to push ‘Save Draft’. We can’t rewrite history. Make it count.

Don’t take anything for granted. None of it. Savor every moment with your child. That includes the uncomfortable and hard times. The moments of disappointment. The fun times. The awe moments. The sad moments. The proud moments. The scary moments. The still and quiet moments. The rush of life moments. Enjoy their firsts and their lasts. Enjoy the joy and laughter together. All of these make up your relationship, they help you know your child better…they are the memories you can’t make again.

Take your job as parent seriously- don’t let up. Make sure you are Preaching it. Teaching it. Sharing it. Whether they act like they are listening or not, say it. Ask the question whether they roll their eyes at you and give you that look. Be the example. If you expect it from your child you best be doing the same.

Ya know Riley was an amazing kid. Gifted. Talented. Smart. Full of potential. He made this world better by being in it. What did I miss? He made a bad decision. I can’t do anything differently. I can’t go back. The memories and moments are all I have now. We can’t make more together.

One of my memories is a little song I sang to my kids when they were little. My Mom sang it to me. It always produced a giggle. It goes, “Head bumper, eye winker, tom tinker, nose smeller, mouth eater, chin chopper and a gitty gitty gitty goo.” I am remembering Riley’s eyes opened wide at what I was saying when touching his nose smeller and his laugh when he was tickled with the gitty gitty gitty goo. I miss his smile with the dimple in his left cheek just like mine.

I want to have another shot at an argument with him. I can make my point better now. I want to finish ten conversations that we started. I think to tell him things. He’s not there. I have so many questions I wish I could ask. Simple ones…What do you like best about___? What is your favorite____? I cannot ask now.

I want to tell him what I know now about the drugs that are out there. What I know now about LSD. I want to have that conversation about legalizing marijuana again. I want to have said something different the night we talked about drugs just days before he died. I gave him the information that I had at the time. I assumed we were on the same page. He said we were. He lied. We weren’t. It’s too late to make my points stronger, better, to try to change his mind though I didn’t know what he was thinking at the time.

We can’t go back. We can’t rewrite history. We can’t change the outcome. We as parents can only do our best with the knowledge we have. Make sure you have accurate and current knowledge. Do your homework about drugs and drug use. Know about the risks of addiction and talk about it with your teens. Know what you are talking about. Share it with your teens. Watch for the signs of drug use.

Hug and kiss your kids. Enjoy them to the fullest. Tell them you love them. Live in the moment for that moment may be all you have.

I Love You, Riley.

When Doves Fly

April 20, 2015 / djuanadreed / Leave a comment

Spring is in the air. The grass is a lush green. There are buds of leaves springing on the trees. Overnight the scenery around me changes. I go to sleep with bare bushes and wake up to green, purple, and white buds blossoming. The pastures are a deep green with wild flowers and dandelions, the sky is blue and I am breathing fresh cool air. The birds are singing. This is all so refreshing. I have lived here six months. It is a new season to experience and I am ready for it.

Riley is on my mind. I have had a break from crying the last few weeks. I have had an uncanny sense of calm. I can’t really explain why. I’m fighting some anger these days about Riley’s case and the situation of his death, but not even that has dug into my gutt. I’m busy with work. I’m not sure exactly why I am calm. I’m not going to complain.

I am in tune to the birds here. It has made me think of a dove that appeared on my balcony during the time right after Riley died. I had lived there a year and had not seen one there before. I was alone on my couch crying and overwhelmed with my grief. I was wishing it wasn’t true- that it was all a bad dream.The dove appeared and stayed for two days. It flew back and forth from one side of the balcony to the other. When I rolled over to cry more, it would bump into the sliding glass door making sure I knew it was there. It perched, it cooed and it stared at me through the window. I went to sleep, I woke up and it was still there.

About then I decided I needed to keep moving. I had to stand up. I had to dig for my strength. I have just kept breathing and putting one foot in front of the other since. I cry when I need to cry. I yell into the empty space when I feel anger. I get it out. I talk to Riley and tell him that I love him every time he passes through my mind. I am facing my grief. All of the ups and downs, the lulls and the storm of emotions and I have found I am remarkably still standing as we near the one year mark.

A dove has recently started nesting in my gutter on my front porch of my log cabin here in Kentucky. It is raining. Even in the rain, she does not move. She looks at me. The sounds of Bert clunking around underneath her does not disturb her. The mail woman who drove up my driveway to give me a package did not make her budge. She remains steadfast and still. She is protecting what is growing beneath her.

Doves bring peace. They are rare amongst birds in that they produce their own milk to feed their young. They cease foraging before their babies are born to ensure the milk is pure. This is a sacrifice for their young. This is nurturing and motherhood. They represent care, devotion, and purity. In the midst of battle and conflict, the dove is a symbol of peace that will come. The cooing of a dove is lulling and calming. The dove is representative of unconditional love. It is believed that when a dove is seen flying it means a soul has been released from earth.

Riley’s soul is not here anymore. It has been released. I will continue to fight this fight for Riley. This I can do for him.

My son is gone because of a first time try of acid/LSD. He is gone because blood sucking, money hoarding human beings are behind making these drugs that are bought online. Someone messed up making the tab Riley bought from the high school dealer. A tab with the highest amount of LSD the medical examiner had seen in one body in his 30 year career. One try of LSD took my child. He couldn’t have, wouldn’t have known this outcome. I know that he would go back and make a different choice if he could. He cannot.

Choices have consequences. I beg teens to make smart choices. Think before you act. Know that you are not invincible. Riley’s death is proof of that. Save your parents from this pain. Don’t mess with drugs. Step away from whatever pressure you feel to try or to continue using. That’s whatever drug is in front of you. Be different. Stay alive. Think about Riley.

I Love You, Riley.

My Caterpillar

April 6, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

My dream has been to write in a log cabin in the woods some day. Now that I’m here at my desk looking out the window at the green grass and trees …what will I do with this opportunity?

One of the projects I have in the works is a children’s book. The main character is a purple elephant with a big grin and paisley feet named “Smiley Riley”. Purple was Riley’s favorite color. The elephant was one of his favorite animals. The character has emerged to fit him perfectly. I have an illustrator that I am working with to develop “Smiley Riley”. I have the theme of the first book. Now how do I write it? Various ideas rattle through my brain on how to go about telling stories to a pre-kindergarten audience. It’s a creative heart warming process for me.

In my research, I have spent hours sitting on the floor in the isles of my own childhood memories of books. Danville’s library is a red brick building with white trim. It stands majestically with nearby church bells tolling on the hour. It has a round foyer and staircases with white banisters. The children’s section is a relaxed area for fun around books. On each trip, I find a new part of the alphabet to look through. I crawl along the floor picking books that look interesting then sit in the isle and read. I pick books that I don’t turn past the first page and then I find others that make me smile and literally chuckle out loud as I read them.

I smile at the story line, the illustration and sometimes I smile because I read that book many times to my oldest daughter, Bria who is now 25. The books I remember treasuring as a child myself are still on the shelves and popular amongst the little eyes and ears who are sitting on their mother’s lap listening intently today. I read Goodnight Moon to Bria so many times. Braden liked any book about firetrucks. Riley liked the adventures of Corduroy, the bear.

Recently I was working and was distracted to Riley’s Facebook page. I was looking through photos he posted on his timeline over the years. I reveled in listening to his voice by comments he made. Remembering who he was and that humor of his that was so him. It was a wonderful hour of being next to Riley again. There was his voice in what he wrote, a video of him playing the tuba, his laugh and funny faces right there on my screen. And then there it was, he posted a photo of the book Corduroy by Don Freeman and another of The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle. He was being nostalgic about his favorite books as a child. Eric Carle’s books had been on my mind. It is one of the examples of a book that has remained popular since Bria was born.

The next day, I went to the library and found The Very Hungry Caterpillar by Eric Carle and checked it out. I got it home and I opened it. I read each page looking at the photos while remembering. I remembered the times of reading it to each of my children while they sat on my lap or sometimes a child was cuddled up close on either side of me and one little Riley was placed on my lap. I hadn’t thought of the story line of A Very Hungry Caterpillar in a very long time until the story unfolded with the turn of each page. At the end of the book, I cried. Tears rolled down my cheeks and hit that last page. At the end was a picture of a beautiful butterfly.

In some cultures, butterflies represent the soul. The souls of those who have passed away. The transformation from egg to adult. Riley was born and died on the same date. He lived. He laughed. He helped others. He shared his smile. He played his guitar and sang his heart out. He barely made it to adult by hours and then he was gone.

Riley had a good life. He had his teenage angst. He did things I wouldn’t have approved of. He did alot of things I did approve of. And his life was cut short by trying a drug. As our children grow older, they have the freedom of choice. To cross the road without looking both ways. To talk to strangers. To not put their seatbelt on when they pull out of the driveway. To text while driving. To have sex without a condom. To try a drug for a forbidden high.

There’s no way to beat it into their brains. My theory is that we educate them of the dangers out there and that they know the possible outcome of their choices. As they grow older, some of those warnings we have given make sense to them. Some of those warnings obviously don’t as our teens take chances. The teen brain says, “I am invincible. It cannot happen to me.”

Riley’s story says it can happen. We are not invincible. Drugs kill. Even on the first try. I hate drugs.

I Love You, Riley.

The Connective Tissue of Loss and Life

March 9, 2015 / djuanadreed / 1 Comment

Riley’s 16th birthday, May 3, 2012, was a monumental day. He and I went to the Department of Motor Vehicles to get his driver’s license. Getting his driver’s license was a big deal. Big for Riley. Big for me too. This meant I could send him to get milk at the grocery store. It meant that I wasn’t the chauffeur anymore. It meant that now I would worry about him driving and being safe. Mostly, being my youngest, I knew he was the last of my children that I would bring to this very spot to pass one more milestone in his life. I remember sitting there waiting with him feeling very nostalgic and sad. This was one more last time which I knew more were coming quickly like each birthday party marking a year older closer to when he would be grown, gone and on his own. There would be high school graduation before I knew it and then college.

After many trips of being on the passenger side of the car to and from school, on errands, Riley was getting his driver’s license. When it was our turn, Riley was handed the paperwork to fill out. I watched him pen in his name, birth date, etc. He also filled out the authorization of the Donor Registration. He did not hesitate. He was willing to give the gift of life by donating parts of his body if his life ended. He marked ‘Yes’ to all twelve of the anatomical gifts listed. I remember the shiver up my spine imagining that his life could ever end. I wiped that thought from my mind quickly. I was proud of him it was just another sign of the giving person he was. Just like the pride I felt when he came back from his driving test with a smile on his face, he had passed.

On May 3, 2014, on Riley’s 18th birthday, only hours after we found out that he had died, we received a call from the Donor Network of Arizona to talk to us about his tissue donation. I was surprised at the call. There was a list of questions for us and a detailed explanation of what would happen next. We were all still in shock sitting in a room crying, pacing, staring in blank air, trying to put it all together. We were still trying to understand how this happened, why it happened. I was still pleading to God that it not be true. It was not a good time for a call like this. I understand why the call is made so quickly, but still who had the with all to focus on anything.

Yet, knowing he was giving the gift of life and healing to others from his lifeless body gave me a warm feeling even at that horrific time. He would live on in others physically. That sounded good and brutal in those moments of freshly losing my child. Riley donated every part of him that was viable. Tissue, eyes (cornea), veins, skin, bone and connective tissue. I’ve thought a lot about the fact that someone got his beautiful soft skin. I miss touching him. The good feeling is that he must have helped many people.

Recently we received our first letter from a recipient. I am sure there will be more to come. The letter came from a man who had torn his tricep from his elbow in a fall. By using Riley’s tissue, they were able to attach it back. He relayed his gratitude, thanking us and said when he was completely healed, it would be as good as new. There ya go, Riley, you’re still helping others. That’s my boy.

I am proud of Riley for this decision. I am thankful to be able to know that he lives on in others. I recently saw messages of his friends talking of missing him, wishing they would see him sitting at Coffee Rush, wishing they could talk to him. The loss of Riley is huge in our family, yet his death has effected so many outside of it. I have messages from his peers as well as adults that say who he was has changed their life forever. They will remember him and try to emulate the love he showed to others. I have messages from parents who tell Riley’s story in hopes that their children will not make such a fatal mistake of trying a drug. I have messages from teens who say they will not try drugs because of Riley’s story.

The connective tissue of a loss and still living is evident here in more ways than one. He is effecting lives to this day. That’s my boy!

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.

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