November is a heavy month for me. Many might assume that November 27—the day Dylan passed—would be the hardest. But for me, it’s actually November 1. That day marked the moment Dylan came home, when we were told there was nothing more they could do. It was the day we began to brace ourselves for what we dreaded, a reality that felt both inevitable and unimaginable. This was the day we realized we needed to make every moment count, to savor each shared smile, laugh, and memory. And for 27 days, we did just that.
On November 2, Dylan's dad and I faced one of the hardest moments of our lives—telling Dylan the truth ourselves. We needed time to process it first, to gather the strength to break the news in a way we hoped would soften the blow. But when we finally shared it, the weight of his question pierced us to our core: “What do you mean, nothing more?”
That question held every unspoken hope, all the disbelief and heartbreak we felt ourselves. We cried together for what felt like hours, holding onto one another in shared sorrow. And yet, in the days that followed, Dylan revealed a strength that left us in awe. He never shed another tear over his fate. He embraced his path with a courage and acceptance that would shape the rest of our days together.
In the face of the unthinkable, we chose to make those 27 days not about saying goodbye but about honoring Dylan’s spirit, about making each moment count. We filled those days with the things that made him smile—sharing his favorite meals, revisiting the foods and restaurants he loved. Dylan could always eat, and we cherished every shared meal, every taste that brought him joy. We went to some of his favorite places, soaking up memories and creating new ones with each visit. We attended multiple sporting events, cheering and laughing, creating moments that felt timeless. Each day was filled with pieces of him, reminders of all the things that made him happy, all the things that made him him.
Those days weren’t about preparing for loss; they were about celebrating life, Dylan’s life, and filling his days with as much happiness as we could. He taught us what it truly means to live fully, even when time is short. Dylan’s spirit still shines brightly within us, reminding us that while he may be gone physically, he is still beside us in every moment.
Over this past year, I’ve learned that I have to be okay with not being okay, to let the pain exist rather than trying to hide from it. There are days it feels as though time has stood still, and I’m hearing those words for the first time all over again. Other days, it feels like a lifetime has passed since I last saw you, held you, and told you I loved you.
This journey has changed me in ways I never imagined. Every step feels different now, as I learn to walk a new path—a path without you physically here but with the comfort that you walk beside me in spirit. I find strength in knowing that, even in my hardest moments, you’re still here, guiding me, reminding me to live fully, just as you did.
As much as I struggle with the pain of missing you, I hold onto the memories we created, the love you left behind, and the quiet presence of you walking alongside me. Somehow, I find the strength to keep moving forward, honoring those 27 days, honoring the love you filled them with. I carry you with me always, and as long as I have breath, I’ll keep living each day as fully as we did together.
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