ADN post - Anna von Reitz

What Happened to Jay Rivera

For those who missed my blog earlier today, I am Anna von Reitz. Jay Rivera lived with me and my family for two years and he died in my front yard two days ago. If anyone outside his family knew him, we did, and we loved him dearly.

His suffering has lessons for us all. He was addicted to alcohol for many years, which led to great loss and suffering and ultimately, to his death.

What happened Tuesday afternoon began many years ago. He once told me that he didn't have a chance to know himself, because he began drinking so early in his life.

Jay was a sensitive and deeply caring man, a superb coach, and a wonderful athlete.

I know, because I was there, that he never aimed the gun at me or my husband or the police. It was never his intention to hurt anyone but himself.

I know, because I got down on my knees and begged him to put the gun aside, that it was his firm intention to die on Tuesday. My husband tried to reason with him too. We tried all the things that anyone could say to stop him, pouring out our hearts with all the reasons why he should stay and have a good life.

And he listened, but he also replied. He told us that he was tired of his long struggle and wanted it to be over. He was tired of fighting his addiction and saw no end of it in sight. In spite of his best efforts, nothing seemed to work. He had been in and out of so many rehab programs and processes, and still, he was addicted.
Every night when he came home from work, he had to face his demons again. Sometimes he won. More often he lost.

As I was struggling with him, he turned and looked me in the eye, and with no hesitation at all, said, "I'm done. It's over. This has to be done."

And then he said, "I am sorry I am putting you through this, but I can't go on---I can't."

He stood looking at me as though that should be self-evident and as if I should let him go, but I couldn't. I stayed, and out of consideration for my feelings, he waited until the troopers came. Then he left the house and went outside, so that there was no damage to my home and no danger to me.

Alcohol cost Coach Jay everything he cared about. It cost him his deepest and closest family ties. His marriage ended in divorce. His only son had to live without him. No other pain in his life hurt him more than this separation.

Recently, USGA, the United States Gymnastics Association began a program to do background checks on coaches and impose sanctions, including the loss of competitive coaching credentials. Although he hadn't yet been "red flagged", he was convinced that it would happen because of his history of alcoholism and a string of related misdemeanors.

He was unable to change the past, unable to envision a future without gymnastics, and had no faith in his ability to beat the addiction.

Jay loved every one of his friends and family. He loved the snow capped mountains and the green leaves on the trees. He loved everyone and everything but himself and the cruel addiction that was ruining his life. He called it slow suicide.

To the officer who shot him, please be comforted. In Jay's view, you helped him end a terrible and long-suffering struggle. You couldn't know what danger you were facing, but Jay knew what he was doing, and understood your obligation to act.

To the parents and students he leaves behind, please understand how very much he cared, and how long and how hard his personal battle was.

To his hundreds of friends across the country, please remember his joyous spirit, and the love and caring he so freely gave to each of us.

To his family, we can only say that you have our deepest and most heartfelt sympathy. We, too, are crying. We too are asking ourselves what more could we do, just like you.

Jay loved living here with us, and he often said so. It is a cheerful place, out in the country, with a large lawn and gardens. He shared my joy in all the outdoor activities and looked forward to this time of year when we started the new seedlings for the garden. Caring for the plants was a reflection of the caring and nurturing he gave his students, too, a testament to his loving heart.

He applied the same care and consideration to Kovacs, his Yellow Labrador Retriever. Kovacs came to him as a puppy, and he trained him up to be the wonderful dog he is today. They were always best buddies.

Jay died a stone's throw away from the flower garden he helped me build last summer. I intend to find a small bronze statue of a gymnast and place it on a garden pedestal among the summer-blooming lilies he helped plant. In winter, I will tie a red velvet ribbon to the pedestal in memory of him. He will not be forgotten.

If his son, JR, wants to, we stand ready to welcome him here in Alaska. We would like to take him fishing and camping and do the things that Jay so wanted to do with his son. We can't make up for his loss, but we can pass on some of his love.

The same goes for his father and step-mother, his ex-wife, and his sisters and their families. We are all tied together by love. And love never dies.

Anyone else who loves Jay Rivera is welcome to call me at anytime.

The Kabbalists believe that we are never separated from those we love. The kindness of God mandates that we are together always, even in death. Please join me in remembering Jay Rivera kindly, and pray with me for his peace and for the healing of his gallant soul and for the comforting of his loved ones.