Even without the lights on, she can see him.
The walls are covered with pictures of Ryan Maxwell. All the flat surfaces — the nightstand and the shelves on the opposite wall — are filled with framed snapshots.
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| As her father Tom Mead looks on, Sarah Mead, 28, of Galesburg sheds a tear as she talks about her son Ryan Maxwell , who died at the age of 7 from wounds suffered in a dog attack March 2, 2013. STEVE DAVIS/The Register-Mail |
An artist's pen-and-ink rendering of Ryan hangs above the head of the bed. The portrait captured the boy smiling, ready to tell you one of the jokes he learned from that book he carried on the school bus every day.
“I tell Ryan he's my world and he's my brave little man,” Sarah said. “And I tell him I'm sorry and I would change places with him if I could.”
Ryan can't answer his mother.
He died at 1:41 p.m. March 2, 2013, from the wounds he received in a dog attack in the backyard of 675 Whiting Ave., the residence where he spent the previous night.
It's been a year since a pit bull named Ghost mauled 28-year-old Sarah's first-born child. She and Ryan's grandparents, Tom and Tina Mead, still struggle with their memories of the beloved boy and the horror of how he was killed.
“Little things remind me of him every day,” Tina explained. “Sarah and I will see a bunch of kids getting off a school bus. Or we see his friends.
“Seeing other little kids around his age has to be the hardest part. It reminds all three of us, I think, of all he's missed out on. The things that are supposed to be fun family things just don't really feel right any more.”
Ryan should have turned 8 years old May 7, 2013. He supposed to be there for Christmas like he always was, up early and bugging grandparents. He missed his beloved little brother Jayden's birthday party at the end of December.
Sarah is always sad and lonely, no matter the date. She focuses all of her energy on her 2-year-old son Jayden.
Sometimes she's not sure Ryan's death is real.
“It's like I think to myself, ‘That couldn't have happened.' And then I realize it did,” she said. “On his birthday I just went out to Linwood Cemetery and bawled my eyes out. I talk to him there, too.
“I try to just tell him about all the little things going on in my life. But honestly, there isn't much since Ryan's been gone. He was my life.”
Ryan's grandfather and best buddy in the whole wide world tried to occupy his mind in the immediate aftermath of the killing.
“I got involved with the pit bull issue,” Tom said. “And I tried to get the city to change some of its laws — or at least give people a chance to change some of its laws. I think there should be a referendum. I think we should ask voters if they want to ban pit bulls and other dangerous dogs in this town.
“And I joined a group called Dex's Friends. A few days after Ryan died, an 18-month-old up in Wisconsin named Dexter was ripped apart by two pit bulls. His parents formed a group and I joined. I was supposed to go up to Chicago and speak this weekend — but I can't do it. I just can't get past it. I still can't get past it.”
For the first time since the mauling of her grandson, Tina explained one of the reasons why her husband has struggled with depression.
“It's the trauma,” she said. “We never really told anyone, but Tom was at the scene right after it happened. He was there before they got Ryan covered up. I don't think he can get past the shock of what he saw.”
Tom recounted what happened in the first moments after his arrival at the backyard of the Whiting Street house where Ryan was attacked.
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| Tom Mead of Galesburg becomes emotional as he talks about his grandson, Ryan Maxwell, who died as a result of a dog attack March 2, 2013, at the age of 7. STEVE DAVIS/The Register-Mail |
“I saw Ryan lying there and his face was gone and his neck was gone,” he said. “There was blood everywhere. That dog just mutilated my boy. I just buckled. I was still awake, but it was like I wasn't awake. I don't remember breathing.”
Tom doesn't think there's a way for him to heal after what he saw.
“I think that's what bothers all of us — knowing the way Ryan died, fighting that dog,” he said. “The horror of that is still too much and I don't think it ever goes away.”
When the memory of the massive injury inflicted on her grandson isn't so great, Tina thinks about the times she and Ryan frosted sugar cookies together. And one time when he made her mad.
“I told Ryan he was pushing my buttons,” she said. “And he looked up at me and said ‘How many buttons do you have?' He was such a funny kid.”
Tom remembers a night when a murder of crows roosted in the backyard.
“I tried to do a Bigfoot call to scare them off,” he said. “Ryan said to me ‘That sounded like a dog.' He gave me such a hard time about that. We always laughed about it.”
And Ryan's mother remembers when she could still hold her son in her darkened room.
“He liked to crawl in bed with me and talk,” she said. “We'd lay there in the dark and he'd talk about school. He liked to tell me about what he and his friends were doing. He liked to talk about his teacher.
“We'd just lay there and talk until he fell asleep. So now I just lay there by myself and talk to him. And sometimes I'm able to fall asleep and it's almost like he's still here with me. It's almost like that.”
(Galesburg.com - Mar. 2, 2014)
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