Today at work, I did a tour for a delightful young family who has three little boys. Three little boys. That’s what I have.
I loved hearing about their little guys, and I told them stories about my boys as if everything was normal. It felt good for a few minutes to just retell the stories with lightness and joy. They mentioned that one of their boys has some bruises from a recent moto-cross injury. Of course, I told them about Chandler who never went a day without some evidence of his love for defying gravity. In all our story swapping, they never would have suspected that one of my three boys wasn’t here any more.
The last couple of days, I’ve been really feeling it. I went into Chandler’s room tonight and looked at pictures of him doing his favorite things. This is exactly what I’ve been thinking today…
He can’t be gone. How can he be gone? He was my baby boy? I held him, I rocked him, I watched him skate and bike and dance and laugh, and he never hesitated to give me a hug, and he loved people, and he was so alive! How can he be gone??? HOW????? Oh, God, how can he be gone???!!!!
It doesn’t feel possible or real. But it is real. I know it’s real because he hasn’t come home in six months. I know it’s real because he didn’t write me beautiful words on Mother’s Day. I know it’s real because his room is quiet and far too orderly. I wonder if there will ever come a day when I absorb the entire reality and stop questioning — How can he be gone? Is he really gone? Is this real?
God, how I need you. I have no words for the depth of pain I am feeling. It’s just too much. I throw myself into your strong arms. I know that you are enough for me. I trust you with my heart, my pain, my grief, my life. Amen.