Corey Nettles brought a community together.
He was an expressive, mostly non-verbal young man cherished by his Federal Way community of Special Olympics athletes, theater performers and school district friends. Corey was a Pokémon Go fanatic, the life of the party and a gentleman who ran ahead to open doors for people.
But in 2018, a medical emergency landed Corey in the hospital for 50 days, a long fight that ultimately ended with his death at age 23.
“He was literally an angel on Earth,” said his mother, Deena Rose. “I really believe he was here to teach me, and other people.”
Now, Rose and family friend Chris Buchanan hope Corey’s story will continue to teach people for years to come.
As family and friends grieved Corey’s unexpected death, Buchanan — who works with young people as a speech-language pathologist — sought a book that would help some of those grieving young adults with limited reading skills.
She couldn’t find one. So around two years ago, she started writing one.
This summer, she released that graphic novel: “RIP Corey: My Friend Died and It SUCKS!” The graphic novel offers guidance via comics, journal entries and plain-language advice, all told through the story of one of Federal Way’s most beloved residents.
The life of Corey — who would be 28 this year — has also forged a deep friendship between Rose and Buchanan, who have found a wellspring of meaning in sharing Corey’s story with the world.
“I will be forever indebted to you,” Deena Rose told Buchanan during a recent interview with The Mirror. “I just can’t believe that Chris even made a book about him. … I’m just grateful that a piece of him will live on.”
“I think we couldn’t just let it be,” Buchanan said. “It shouldn’t be that young people are locked out of books.”
LIONHEARTED
Corey, Deena’s first son, was born with no complications. His speech development was a little slow, and when Corey was around two or three years old, Rose started taking him to thrice-weekly speech therapy, paying out-of-pocket until insurance covered the visits.
Corey had apraxia of speech and underdeveloped muscles in his mouth. While he couldn’t hold a verbal conversation, Corey expressed his thoughts and vivid creativity through his eyes and gestures, his family and friends said, making him a master of charades.
“He couldn’t talk to you, but you would know what he was talking about,” Rose said. “He communicated so well with people.”
Corey loved animals — especially lions — and spent hours watching Animal Planet, relishing visits to zoos or wildlife preserves. He made elaborate paper lions out of bags from grocery stores and decorated his room like a savannah.
He made many of his closest friends as a Special Olympian, playing basketball, soccer and bowling. Corey and his soccer team took fourth at the statewide 2011 Special Olympics Summer Games in Tacoma.
Corey — nicknamed “Brickhouse” due to his blocking skills — was gentle despite his skill on the court and the field.
“When he was playing with kids that were less mobile, he would give him a tussle, but let them win,” Rose said. “But they just felt like they’d got the better of him.”
Corey graduated from Federal Way Public Schools’ employment transition program at age 21 and joined his mom working at the school district. While Rose drove school buses, Corey prepared school breakfasts and lunches.
And Corey was loved by the community Rose helped build for him. When he took walks, Rose would get phone calls — “Did you know he’s walking down First Avenue? Is he supposed to be over there?” — concerned for his safety.
But soon after July 4, 2018, Corey became inexplicably ill. A trip to the hospital revealed he was suffering from appendicitis.
Appendicitis is an excruciating condition, but Corey had a high tolerance for pain and was “marching on” through it, his mother said. By the time Corey finally saw a doctor, his condition was extreme.
Corey spent 50 days in the hospital, receiving card after card and visits from his loved ones. He endured sepsis, a ventilator, a feeding tube and surgery. Buchanan, who stopped by most evenings after work to see Corey, said there were always two or three of Rose’s friends or family there with her.
For much of Corey’s stay, it seemed like he was getting better — sometimes demonstrated by his flirting with the nurses. But in the early morning hours of Aug. 29, Corey’s friends got the news: He had died.
More than 400 attended Corey’s memorial, his mother said. At a celebration of life, a large crowd released dozens of white balloons into the sky, shouting “We love you, Corey!”
The heartbreak was not over for Rose. Her other son, Noah Nettles, was killed at age 20 in a shooting in Auburn less than a year after Corey’s death.
Rose experienced, and still navigates, the grief and the immensity of losing her two children — the emotional suffering, the thoughts of “if I could go back,” the questions that may never be answered.
For her kids’ sake, she does not let that grief destroy her.
“It’s an ugly road, but honestly I really do feel my kids with me, within my heart, all the time,” Rose said. “I don’t know how much longer I have on this Earth, but they wouldn’t want me to speak all sad and not live. So I gotta live for both of them.”
And feel proud of the love she showed them, Buchanan said.
“She gave him [Corey] such a good life,” Buchanan said. “Oh my god. You were such a good mom. He did so much in his life that my kids never did. I was just like, what have I been doing?”
MY FRIEND DIED, AND IT SUCKS!
Buchanan, a close family friend of Rose and Corey, met many of Corey’s friends during his hospital stay.
After Corey’s death, she wondered: “How are these kids going to deal with this?”
Therapists and grief groups are great, she said. So are books, which let someone reflect on their feelings on their own schedule.
So she visited a library and asked for a book that might help a grieving teenager who wasn’t a strong reader. The options weren’t ideal, Buchanan found.
“Let’s say it’s an 18-year-old with limited reading ability, (at a) first-grade level,” she said. “They either have to get a kids’ book about a leaf dying, or a bear dying. It’s not real people. … Or it’s like a textbook, you know, and they can’t read (it). … For a huge segment of the population, even adults with special needs, (to) process their grief, there’s nothing. You’re just out of luck. We’re excluding them.”
But Buchanan knew how to include them. She’s spent more than two decades “explaining big concepts to little kids,” Buchanan said. So she embarked on writing a graphic novel with a title that couldn’t be more direct.
“RIP Corey: My Friend Died and It SUCKS!” is Buchanan’s first foray into publishing. Though “it felt daunting,” the project was a success: Buchanan raised nearly $12,000 from 74 people to produce the book.
The book explores the complicated emotions of grief, like seeing the deceased in your dreams, feeling angry they won’t be around anymore, and worrying you’ll forget your memories of them.
“The whole point is how someone grieving, especially a teenager, is going to process their grief,” Buchanan said. “This is supposed to be even for non-readers and non-verbal people. After you’ve heard it once, you should pretty much be able to tell yourself what happened.”
Why such a direct title? Because talking around the reality of death can exacerbate a person’s fears or sadness if they don’t quite understand it.
A parent might say: “We lost someone,” Buchanan said, and their kid might respond: “Why aren’t we out there looking for him?”
Or they might say: “He went to sleep and didn’t wake up.” But that might just instill a fear of sleeping in their kid, Buchanan said.
The Children’s Hospital of Philadelphia gives similar advice: When explaining death to a child, use the words “dead” and “died.” Be honest, but don’t overwhelm with medical details. Don’t use euphemisms, which can create unnecessary fear in children. And be ready to answer questions and offer reassurance as needed.
Michele McLaughlin, teen services librarian at the Federal Way Library, bought a dozen copies personally and plans to make them available for kids and teens at library programs. She said she’ll advocate for adding it to the King County Library System’s collection, and said the library is interested in hosting Buchanan to talk about the book and her experience writing it.
“After giving a copy to one of my colleagues, we both agreed we want to give it to a bunch of folks because it’s so very accessible for people of all ages and reading levels,” McLaughlin said. “We feel that someone can open the book up to any page and have it resonate… that it shows someone else has felt grief and is comfortable sharing the emotion of it all, and that, maybe, it’s okay for the reader to open up and talk about death, too.”
REMEMBERING COREY
At a packed launch party for the book July 9, Corey’s friends and family remembered the big, lionhearted young man who was quick with a joke and loyal to his friends.
Marcel Foster, Corey’s teammate in Special Olympics and at Federal Way’s inclusion-based Friendship Theatre, remembers singing Christmas carols and going to parties with Corey.
“He’s a wonderful guy, a good friend to me and everybody else,” Foster said. “And he means a lot to this community. … He kept me happy. I love him, and I’m going to miss him. … And he’s always my brother.”
Corey’s aunt Leslie Rose remembered her nephew’s mischievous jokes — like teasing her for years after Leslie lost a race to her older sister — and Corey’s penchant for steak and eggs at IHOP, where the two would go every once in a while. She even learned to appreciate the “Twilight” saga of vampire flicks with Corey.
“I really appreciate it,” she said. “Now when I watch it, I’m so sad, because he used to have me watch it with him.”
Leslie Rose said she felt honored by Buchanan’s efforts to write “RIP Corey,” after the pain and grief their community went through from Corey’s long hospital stay and death.
“It was really difficult for people, because everybody was coming to the hospital,” she said. “There was so much hope that he was getting it better. … So it was really kind of overwhelming. I know I haven’t even figured it out yet. I just take it day-by-day.”
Samantha Fine met Corey through the Special Olympics and the Employment Transition Program, and the two became “really close friends.” She still keeps a big bear that Deena gave her in her room, dressed in Corey’s soccer jersey, facing her bed.
“He was like a brother to me,” Fine said. “He made me feel happy.”
Corey was Ariana Turchiano’s teammate in Special Olympics, a fellow trainer in Pokémon Go, and her godbrother. She recalled fond memories of competing in Wenatchee with Corey at the state Special Olympics tournament, visiting Wild Waves together and taking Corey to dance at Todd Beamer High School’s homecoming.
Corey could be tough when he needed, but he was also “like a teddy bear,” she said: “If there was (ever) any bullies, he’d tell them to back off.”
And Stu Snow, a Special Olympics coach of 13 years who coached Corey in soccer, remembered Corey as a curious, happy, playful and hardworking athlete who people trusted and counted on.
When Corey became ill, Snow and his wife went to the hospital to see him.
“We walked up to the bed … I came up to him, and he was leaning there, pretty much semi-conscious,” Snow said. “He looked up, saw me, and got a huge smile on his face, reached up and held my hand. … That was my best memory of Corey, and that’s what I’m going to remember about Corey. Not the end, but him as he was.”
“RIP Corey” is written by Chris Buchanan, with art by Emily Ingram-Patel. The book is available on Amazon or at Buchanan’s website: https://chrisbuchanan.xyz. A free study guide for the book is available at https://www.levelupbooks.xyz/