It's been six months since Andrew's crash. That's 183 days I didn't get to see those beautiful blue eyes, hear him giggle, or see him smile. It's 183 times I've had to find the will to get out of bed, get a shower, and face reality. The pain is deep and the heartache still as fresh as that afternoon on March 24th. It might look like I'm functioning normally and if you ask I'm likely going to respond that I'm okay or I'm fine, but I am still sad. I cry almost daily at some point. I want to be strong and sometimes I think I am and that I'll finally get through the darkness, then other times I just want to sleep and pretend it was all a dream.
I know many are looking forward to the holidays but I am not. I'm already fretting over Christmas and how the mantle will look with one less stocking. I worry about how Matt is going to feel. I'm even worried about silly things, like how to sign our Christmas cards this year. Even Thanksgiving will be a struggle as I'm less thankful than in previous years and feeling guilty about that as I have so much more than others. I hate that Andrew won't be here to gobble up all the turkey and rolls. The boy could definitely down some rolls. And Halloween is just around the corner. Andrew loved handing out candy or dressing up with friends and scaring others. He loved haunted houses and scary movies. I was not a fan of either but he was. Here he is a few years ago dressed up for Halloween. I guess this Halloween he'll be dressed as an angel!