It’s been three months now that you’ve been gone Dylan and not a one of us are anywhere nearer to reconciling the fact that you’re gone than we were the moment we first found out. Whenever I stop for a moment to think about you, a lump immediately forms in my throat and tears well up in my eyes. This grief is so big and so vast, I find I am reluctant to visit it willingly but when it knocks at my door, it must be answered.
I am not alone in this. I spoke with your grandmother on the phone last week and she said it’s the same for her. She can be very busy and involved with running the business but suddenly, a memory of you will come to mind or she will walk past your door or someone will say something and the enormous wave of sadness washes over her and she needs to stop everything and just cry.
The best image I can think of for what I’m feeling is that it’s like being in a rowboat in the middle of the ocean. This grief is vast and deep beneath the boat. I can row as hard as I like, change directions, stop and drift and pretend that the water isn’t so deep below but it is always there. I can keep my eyes on the horizon or look back to the shore but whenever I look down, I am reminded of how deep and overwhelming that water really is. So many memories. So many regrets. So much sadness.
Our lives have changed so much in the last three months and there are so many things I hope you can see from whatever alternate reality your spirit is now in. I hope you know how great your sister is doing living here with Jim and I. I hope you are proud of our collective sobriety – me, Justin, Eden and Jim these last three months and the healthy lifestyle it has helped bring about for us all. I hope you are happy about the releasing of the Vancouver house and your father’s planned move back to the US. I hope you are delighted that we are all so supportive and loving of each other. You have instigated all of this change Dyl and for that I will be eternally grateful to you.
You are so very missed honey - every day - by all of us. My stupid brain still tricks me into thinking that I can just text you or give you a call when you come into my mind and there is something I want to share with you. I’m not sure how long it will be before that stops but it’s so hard and painful when it happens. I guess our hearts need to release things in small increments and full acceptance just takes time. You know how impatient my nature is and I am just trying to be very patient with myself about this. Self criticism has always been a problem for me so I guess it’s just time I deal with it and learn a little more self love. Thank you for that lesson on top of everything else.
Your things are still in your room in Newmarket. Grammy and Grampy aren’t in a hurry to have them gone but some day, they will have to be dealt with. I’m traveling to Ontario to help them with the CHFA trade show in September and will bring what I can home with me. Jim and I have your baby things stored in the hopes that some day I can tell one of my grand children about their wonderful Uncle Dylan who left us far too soon.
Rest easy my dear, dear son. I hope your spirit is truly at peace. Know that you were and are so very loved and your memory and legacy lives on in each one of us forever.
All my love,