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 means "Love Life" in Celtic, (Ireland being our last name, we are a VERY Irish family) he lived by that creed. He loved life. Every picture I have of him, he was smiling, he made people happy, even just to be around him. He spoke to me often about how he would go out of his way to speak to the kids at school that were being picked on, or would sit with the ones that no one else would sit with at lunch. He was warm and kind, and every time a parent or teacher would tell me how polite or well mannered he was, I could feel my chest swell with pride.

He has one brother, and I am afraid I am so broken, that I will be unable to fulfill my role of Mother, Father and now Brother. I can barely    keep myself from drowning, where am I supposed to find the strength for Billy? He is in the Navy and lives across the country, I speak to him daily, it is easy to let him know "I am doing O.K." he does not need to know I am falling apart. 

We think he was smoking "spice" or "K2" still awaiting toxicology reports, however, from research I have been doing, it may not show up. This is the ONLY logical explanation that makes sense. He had never talked of hurting himself,ever. Never tried to hurt himself. Even if he was, man, he hid it well. I know the "what if's" are bad, I try not to go there...

Just trying to make it another day..