Taking out the trash...
The color orange...
The movie Frozen and all of its songs...
Powdered donuts...
Pop-Tarts...
Shopping carts with steering wheels...
The yellow curb bumps outside of grocery stores...
Blow drying my hair...
Sand boxes...
The beach...
Blonde hair...
Scooby-Doo...
Little boys...
Driving by his preschool...
Brushing teeth (because he hated it)...
Dandelions...
Every.Single.Night.

All of these everyday things puts his image so strongly in our minds. I didn't cry a lot the first week of the accident, and even the few days after we held him and kissed him goodbye for the last time my eyes were somewhat dry. It's only now, weeks after that I find my emotions hard to control. His face is everywhere and in everything, though it seems like he was never here. We can't remember what it feels like to hold him. We can't hear his voice anymore. We have only memories - I remember the way he had to hold my hand at night at the perfect angle so I could rub my thumb back and forth over his fingers. I remember the way he would grab my face and give me awkwardly long, hard kisses until I laughed so hard he had to back up. I remember the way he would rub his face against Matt's and say "Ooooowwww" whether or not Matt was clean shaven. I remember the way he would fight Logan, but then follow him around and copy everything he said. So many memories, and yet nothing is concrete, tangible, none of it seems real anymore. We have no baby boy to touch, to hold, to swing around. Logan turned six on Friday and we realized just how big he is now. He has changed since Sawyer's death too. He's become more mature somehow and it makes us sad. Logan had an amazing time at his birthday party yesterday, but it was so hard to watch all of the kids running around without Sawyer. He would have loved everything - the face painting, the balloon animals, the cotton candy, popcorn, and snow cones, the bounce house, the kids playing in the sandbox, opening up all the presents. I just wish that if he had to be taken, he could have at least had this last experience. We should have been able to celebrate him yesterday too. His name was so clearly absent from the Happy Birthday song. We took the first family picture without him, and it's so empty, so wrong. We had one orange balloon there for him, and I wore my Remembering Sawyer shirt, but it's clearly not the same. Nothing is the same. We're still expecting it to get easier. One of these days it has to.

Still missing you. Still loving you. Still wanting you back.