Dylan Charles is also the name my brother and his wife bestowed on their second son, who entered the world on February 4, 1987. He passed away exactly five years ago tomorrow, at age 22.
Time has not yet healed the pain of Dylan's parents. It probably never will, although I can never fully comprehend how deep the hurt and sense of loss must be from losing a child handicapped by muscular dystrophy. No one, however, would dare refer to Dylan as crippled during his short time on this earth.
He had more love from his parents than any child could wish. My brother and his wife were determined to make sure Dylan got every bit of quality that could be squeezed from life without spoiling him. He lived in a comfortable home, made lots of friends, enjoyed toys and technology, and got a good education. Along the way, Dylan developed an unselfish perspective of the world he wasn't reluctant to share with anyone who would listen.
Dylan had lots of feist in him. He experienced what it was like to hit a baseball, he more than held his own in computer games, and maneuvered a wheelchair with agility and some creativity. The love and, when needed, the muscles of his parents and brother helped keep him moving forward through life with steely determination.
Everyone realized, however, it was just a matter of time before MD would do in his body. It eventually did on May 31, 2009. But, no amount of time will cause him to be forgotten by those who knew him and felt fortunate to be part of his life.
Everyone realized, however, it was just a matter of time before MD would do in his body. It eventually did on May 31, 2009. But, no amount of time will cause him to be forgotten by those who knew him and felt fortunate to be part of his life.
