I went to work today, it has only been a little over a month since my precious boy has been gone. I thought to myself, "I can not do this, it is too soon. I must be cold-hearted or crazy, am I forgetting about my beautiful child?" But, I can't sit home any longer, I am at home, alone and I cry, I scream and yell, I curse at God and, forgive me, I yell at my beloved son. I know it is not healthy, I know I am not angry at God, I am not angry at Dylan. I am angry at the Universe, why? Why did…

I just came back from the grocery store. It was hard to shop when I knew I did not need to buy Lucky Charms or Hot Pockets, no frozen pizza or corn dogs. I didn't have to call home 3 times to ask, "what kind of pop do you want?", "Do you need deodorant?" or  "anything else you can think of ?". My phone didn't ring with Dylan asking if I could buy him some Axe body spray, or some face wash...it was a quiet trip to the store. I didn't cry, I have been trying very hard to keep that from…

It has been one month since my buddy, my partner in crime, my beautiful son has been gone from my life. My body aches, my heart is shattered and still I ask why. My son was not suicidal, his Father committed suicide when Dylan was 7 years old, he was adamant about the fact that it was a selfish and cowardly thing to do. We talked in length about it. He spoke to his closest friend and his wonderfully understanding girlfriend about it, he had a tattoo on his arm that read, "Gra Beatha" it…