Almost One of Those Days
Today was an entirely uneventful, relaxing day…mostly on the couch.
The morning started in bed watching a sermon streamed live from a local church followed by a spinach almond butter smoothie. I read, watched TV, did some writing, spent time with my kids and my hubby, made some lunch, and washed our sheets – go me!
The lunch part was quick and easy. I tried Hello Fresh for two deliveries with a half-off special and free shipping. It is SO easy and tasty! You get recipe cards and all the ingredients for the meals, pre-measured and ready to throw together for a healthy meal. Too bad the regular cost is so expensive. I cancelled yesterday.
I remember in the first days after losing Chandler wondering if I would ever have a day like today — no punches in the gut, no waves of grief, no heavy insights or revelations.
Until a few minutes ago.
I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a post by Ocean Roulette, one of Chandler’s favorite DJs. The club was jumping and the lights flashing, and I remembered that this time last year Chandler was there busting his signature Chandler moves. That’s how this is. You have an entire day of easy and unremarkable. Then one image, one sound, pierces your heart.
Until the Instagram post, there was simply an awareness that I don’t have Chandler here. Especially when Chance and I talked about him this morning. Chance was telling a Chandler story and at one point spoke in present tense. He quickly corrected himself -- “Chandler was…”
Then I heard from another good friend of Chandler’s, just checking in. Tomorrow, October 28, was his last text from Chandler. It’s hard to hear these things, but I would not have it any other way. We need to remember together, to hurt together, to keep honoring Chandler together.
I hear that this everyday awareness of absence and emptiness will eventually subside, and there will be days when I don’t think about it. That time’s not here yet. And honestly, I can’t imagine it to be possible. I see our family pictures around the house, and my internal voice says, “How can he not be here? This can’t be real.”
God, thank you for a really good day complete with a streaming sermon, a working fridge, a comfy couch, a remote that I’ve finally figured out, and some yummy, healthy food. Tonight I’m reminded how much I miss my boy and that others miss him too. And I’m thankful that he danced. Amen.