The Day Everything Changed

It was at this time, 3:40 p.m., December 15, the winter sun beginning to lose its brightness, when I got the call. Seven years ago today.

Everything changed in that single moment.

“Are you Chandler Espinoza's mother?"

"Yes."

"He's been hit by a car. You need to get to the hospital right away."

Chandler was a BMX biker, a golfer, a hiker, a body surfer, a snow boarder, a runner when he decided to be. Truth be told, he could master pretty much any physical feat he decided to undertake. It is not an exaggeration to call my son a defier of gravity.

He was an adventurer.

And he was a philosopher at heart. "Mom, we don't have Jesus in our hearts. Jesus has us in his heart," said four-year-old Chandler.

His leather-bound journal entries reveal a depth greater than one might assume based on his youthful, sometimes questionable, exploits. Does one really need to do a back flip off his friend's kitchen counter or jump off another friend's roof into a pool? There are plenty more, but I digress.

What mattered most to Chandler was how he inhabited life. If life were a peach, Chandler didn't nibble politely. He bit in fully, juice running down his hands, savoring the sweetness and the mess of it. He lived with appetite, presence, and abandon. As if life were to be tasted, not analyzed or rationed.

And then, that moment.

It was the first of countless new moments—moments shaped by fear, confusion, sadness...and hope. Eighteen days of moments that felt suspended, unreal, like perhaps a good shaking and a, "Wake up, you're having a nightmare!" might just end it all.

It is impossible to land on December 15 and not feel the weight.

So how do you go about your ordinary day when it marks the day when everything, literally everything, changed?

Well, here's how I did it. First, I cried. Then I obsessed over choosing the perfect rug and lampshades for the sitting room. I made a protein shake and an iced matcha. I cried some more.

I distracted myself with some necessary work tasks.

And finally, I sat down to do what was on my heart to do—though my body just wanted to keep moving. To avoid feeling it all.

I cried some more.

I cried for what Chandler went through. I cried for the pain his brothers and sister will carry forever. I cried for me and for Chip. We are parents who have lost a child. It is an unspeakable loss.

This day feels like waiting. Remembering.

Not losing — not quite yet.

Every cell in me remembers the agony of the waiting.

Today feels unfinished.

Chandler Espinoza BMX biker