Remembering Dylan: Twenty Years of Love

Remembering Dylan: Twenty Years of Love

By Linda Taylor A guest post by Dylan’s aunt, Remembering Dylan: Twenty Years of Love looks back lovingly over Dylan’s time spent with his cousins and extended family.

Sometimes words are not enough to express the depth of love and profound influence of a beloved child on the extended family. My only child, my son Dylan died by suicide June 25, 2012. None of our family has ever been the same. The heartfelt narrative that follows, “Dylan: Twenty Years of Love,” was written by my sister, Linda Taylor.

Read on for a moving account of a mother and aunt remembering the beauty of brilliance of Dylan—his Lego castles, quirky humor, and long struggle with depression and addiction—twelve years after his death by suicide. Through vivid memories, raw questions of “Was there something else I could have done?” and shared resources, the post honors his life and offers gentle hope to grieving hearts.

Dylan: Twenty Years of Love

(A Beautiful, Heartfelt Guest Post Written by my Sister, Linda, Dylan’s Aunt)

Twenty years: from birth, from before birth treasured and loved, Dylan. Held now in God’s hands, held always in God’s hands but oh how I wish him back.

I remember the first time I held him, how precious and small

In 1991, Beth called to share the news that she was pregnant. Beth had some health issues so there were trips to the hospital to protect her health and his, but finally, I got the call that he was born. I remember the first time I held him, how precious and small. I sat on the floor with him in my arms.

Dylan was a baby with colic who was soothed when my husband (Dylan’s uncle) held him

Sometimes I have random memories of Dylan. Dylan was a baby with colic who was soothed when my husband held him. Dylan first learned to “game” at age two by standing in front or the TV while his cousins played (or at least tried to play) Mario.

We are still finding Legos in the couch where he played

Dylan loved his Legos. He had a wonderful imagination as well as a real skill for building the complicated sets. We are still finding Legos in the couch where he played.

He was the youngest grandchild and the “baby” cousin

He was on vacations with us, at family dinners and celebrations. We had a Halloween party at our house. We loved him and treasured him. He was the youngest grandchild and the “baby” cousin.

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As he got older there were signs of the depression that got worse–We could no longer pretend his pain was not real

As he got older there were signs of the depression, signs that got worse as he began to use drugs. By the time he first was hospitalized for depression and addiction, we could no longer pretend his pain was not real.

I really wanted him to get well–and for a couple weeks, there were good times again

I really wanted him to get well. I am a recovering alcoholic myself who suffered horrible bouts of depression in adolescence and early adulthood. Dylan came to live with us in 2012 after he had overdosed and cut himself. For a couple weeks, there were good times again: Dylan was clean of drugs, Dylan was taking his antidepressant, Dylan was coming to dinner and talking and being with us.

But the turn downward, the spiral came, and he withdrew again

But the turn downward, the spiral came, and he withdrew again. I will be forever blessed with those few weeks of time we had, and forever second guessing, “Was there something else I could have done?”

Was there something else I could have done?

But our house was no miracle, no cure. There was not enough love to conquer his depression. After yet another overdose, he went to a center that treated depression.

There was not enough love to conquer his depression–but hope came when he went to a treatment center that treated depression

And there is hope again. As long as he was alive, no matter how ugly the attempts, no matter how deep his depression, we all kept hoping. I saw so much of myself in Dylan. I wanted to protect him and hold him the way we did when he was an infant, to keep him safe.

As long as he was alive, no matter how ugly the attempts, no matter how deep his depression, we all kept hoping.

As long as he was alive, no matter how ugly the attempts, no matter how deep his depression, we all kept hoping. I saw so much of myself in Dylan. I wanted to protect him and hold him the way we did when he was an infant, to keep him safe.

But his need to escape his pain seemed to grow not diminish

But his need to escape his pain seemed to grow not diminish.

On June 25th, 2012, I woke and took the phone downstairs with me. When it rang in the middle of the night, the hollow sound of my sister Beth’s voice, “Linda, Dylan’s dead.” changed my world. Those words that devastate, echo, haunt. Rocking and crying and howling, wanting to make it not real.  The pain is deeper than any pain I have ever felt.

My life will be divided into those two parts, when Dylan was alive and after Dylan died–it has become my calendar

My life will be divided into those two parts, when Dylan was alive and after Dylan died. It has become my calendar. I know in my head that Dylan’s pain was real, I know his depression was fatal, that suicide was the only answer he saw, but in my heart where I carry him, I don’t want him gone.

I know in my head that Dylan’s pain was real, I know his depression was fatal, that suicide was the only answer he saw, but in my heart where I carry him, I don’t want him gone.

Linda Taylor, “Remembering Dylan: A Journey of Love and Loss,” My Forever Son

I don’t want to learn to live without Dylan because what I really want is to have Dylan back

I want Dylan on the bench at family dinners, on the roller coasters at Cedar Point, joking and texting his friends. I want his quirky sense of humor, his laugh that I can still hear.

I don’t want to learn to live without Dylan because what I really want is to have Dylan back.

A gift from God, too soon returned: Dylan

Twenty years: too short. Loved and treasured from birth to grave and beyond, a gift from God, too soon returned: Dylan.”

“Remembering Dylan: Twenty Years” by Linda Brown Taylor, Dylan’s Aunt

Companion Reads

• “I Want It All Back”: Remembering Dylan, My Forever Son
• Poems from a Grieving Mother After the Suicide Loss of Her Only Child
• When Memorial Day Becomes a Threshold: A Mother’s Story of Suicide Loss and Enduring Love
• After My Son’s Suicide: Living With Guilt and Questions
• What Happened? Losing My Only Child to Suicide

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