Five Months...

Today is five months since my son passed. 
Five months without seeing his smile. Five months without hearing his voice, his laugh. Five months since I held his hand and said goodbye... It feels like an eternity. People tell me it gets easier with time. Since each day has been harder than the last, I find that very difficult to fathom.  How long does it take to accept that your child isn't ever coming home? How long before you stop looking for them around every corner? A year? Five years? Ten? Maybe... but I doubt it. I don't think time is the answer. No amount of time will help this make sense. 
Today has been awful. I cannot stop crying. I sit in his room and stare at his face in photos and think "That's it. That's all there is." What we have now is all we will ever have. There will be no new ones. No college graduation pic, no wedding photos, no tender image of him holding his newborn child. I stare at them hoping to see something new. A cheesy grin I might have missed. But they don't change. I know them all by heart. Every memory is a treasure that I cherish. I live in fear of forgetting even a single moment. 
I have one shirt left that still smells like him. I keep it in a drawer away from other things to try to make it last as long as possible. I only pull it out when I need it most. Today it is wet with my tears. I'd give anything to hug him one more time and inhale his scent. As parents, we take things like that for granted. Their smell, the sound of their breathing as they sleep, the faces they make when they are mad, hurt, scared, happy or surprised. We get so used to them, we don't even realize we aren't paying attention to it anymore. Until it's gone. If someone had asked me 6 months ago if I would ever miss the smell of my son's dirty, stinky feet, I would've laughed in their face. Today, I would give anything to be picking up a pair of his ripe socks off the floor and teasing him about them. I see/hear parents complain about their kids and I think "You have no idea how lucky you are." I'd sacrifice everything for even one eye roll and a snarky remark from my son. See, the thing is, when you lose your child, you don't just miss the good moments, you miss every moment. Because even a pair of dirty socks left on the floor, or a glass of spilled juice, or a broken window means they are still with you. You can still wrap your arms around them. You can still tell them you love them. You can still hear the sound of their voice. To a parent who's lost their child, those moments are priceless and we'd do anything in our power to have them back. 
Today is five months. Five months of wishing I had him back. Five months of hoping this was all just a bad dream and hoping I'd wake up. Five months of wondering if I can make it another day without him.