What would honor Chandler? I find myself asking that a lot these days. It helps me in those moments when I’m tempted to shrink from my life, from who I am, from seizing a moment of pure joy.
Here’s what I know. Chandler would not want me to become dormant or inert. That would not honor him. Certainly he would want me to miss him. But in my missing him, he would not want me to miss my life.
We shared a love for dancing. I’m going to keep dancing. He was proud that I could do push-ups. I’m going to keep doing push-ups. We both loved adventure. I’m going to continue embracing new experiences and learning new things. He lived in the moment. I’m going to keep reminding myself not to dwell in the past or become so preoccupied with “what’s next” that I miss now. He loved to be on the golf course. I’m going to get back to learning the game he loved. I hate that it was pouring down rain a couple of weeks before his accident — we were planning to go to the driving range together so he could give me some tips, but it was closed.
When Chandler was little, no path from point A to point B was direct. Between point A and point B were ladybugs to catch, ledges to climb, flowers to sniff, dogs to pet, hills to roll down. Life was not waiting for us upon our arrival at point B. Life was begging to be lived at point A, point B, and all points in between. I loved Chandler’s vantage point — notice everything, and enjoy the journey.
Tomorrow I’ll share about another specific way I’m honoring Chandler.