6 months

Six months since the day you left us.

Six months since I had a hug, touched your scruffy beard, heard you complain about needing a haircut.

Six months of not seeing your man sized hands - and marveling that they were once as small at Jason's are - as small as Jason's used to be even.

Six months since I rejoiced with you over good things in your life.

Six months of not hearing your plans for moving in with Carolyn, or reminding you about looking into colleges.

Six months of not seeing you do vape tricks or hearing about Civil (the store) or the vape tricks team.

Six months of not hearing about your friends, your antics, your plans.

Six months of not hearing fun facts, watching videos of something you found fascinating, or watching some new skill you learned.

Six months of not hearing your voice, your laugh.

Six months of an empty place at family dinners, or family game nights.

Six months of not enjoying a meal prepared by you.

Six months of wanting to do family pictures but feeling sad because you wouldn't be in them.  

Six months of crying every day, feeling like the hole in my heart is getting bigger or more sensitive in some ways, and harder and tougher in other ways.

Six months of not planning birthday or Christmas presents - of knowing that this year, and every one after, your birthday and Christmas will be emptier without you here.

Six months of memories that I never get to have with you.

Six months of questioning my faith - and what I truly believe happens when we die.

Six months of trying to make your things be enough without you. They will never be enough.

Six months of looking at every picture I have of you - and realizing it just isn't enough. It will never be enough.

Six months feels like a lifetime. And it feels like the blink of an eye.
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I posted this on a grief group yesterday:

Today marks 6 months since my 20 yo soon died in a car accident. They say it gets easier, and it some ways it has. I can get chores/work done. I can laugh. I don't have a panic attack every time my daughter or husband drive off. But, in many ways, it is harder. I cry a lot more these days. The depression is real and tangible. I don't feel his presence like so many people speak of with loss of a loved one. I question my faith all the time. I'm told this is normal. I went to a group therapy for 8 weeks (for a program for my 3 yo - the little ones met while the adults met separately ) and it was helpful to know all the feelings I have are shared by others. 

But, if I had one wish - it would be to go back to March 16 - and call him that morning. Even if I was just saying "I love you".

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I posted this graphic on facebook because it describes exactly how I feel