It's been over three years since the death of my only child-my son, Dylan Dean. He was four and a half months old and it was my fault. I called him Dilly Bean and I had him on my 20th birthday. A true gift from GOD he was beautiful and strong and I loved him more than I've ever loved anything in this world. My life was never easy and I've lived through some horrific and sad things but I promised to show him a different life. Dylan was never going to see the things that I had to see or experience the same feelings, the confusion, the neglect. I promised to protect him, to always be there for him and I failed him. I wonder if he suffered and it keeps me up at night. I know he wondered where I was and why I didn't have him in my arms safe and warm like I usually did. I've done many suggested things and I've came very far, I now want to live and I want the story of Dylan to be told. My son is my angel but he's also my hero! But, I'm tired of being strong and I'm tired of the pain, I'm just tired. And at the end of the day when I've finished with all the goals I set for myself, I'm left with this feeling of dread, "Now What?" I feel so empty and nothing will ever fill that. And I can't make the guilt go away the fact that I'm alive seeing things that he will never get to see. I wanted to show him the world. The beauty of things not the sad and bad. You know, many people have supported me through this and I just hope that in the end I can help someone and that I may find the forgiveness for myself because I know I'll never forget. I just miss him so much and I hope that when I get to heaven he remembers me. For three years now when I wake up the first thought I have is that he's not there and when I go to bed at night I know he's not there so I pray for GOD to please hold Dylan tight because he liked to be held and wasn't very happy if you put him down.
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