Tables and chairs have been so difficult for me since I’m one person less than I used to be.
Up until recently, when I had company, I would add too many extra chairs to my table. My guests would sit down and there would be one empty chair. They’d look at me and realize that I still accounted for Tom’s presence at the table. Their expressions to each other said, “Oh gosh, she forgot. Poor thing.” They’d continue dishing out the food, politely not wanting to draw attention.
Bewildered, I would wonder what that fraction of a second was all about. And then, “Oh”, I’d say. I caught my mistake too late and we’d ignore that I’m still expecting Tom. The empty chair staring at us all. No one wanting to move it or say anything about it. I would just add, “I wasn’t sure who all was coming.” But everyone knew that I was still counting myself as a couple.
As a guest, one chair among a table of friends used to be very upsetting to me. I was used to two chairs; one for me and one for Tom. One was a reminder that I had arrived alone, without my date whom I’d had since I was eighteen. When I would see the one chair saved for me it would bring me to tears. In a room full of couples, the one extra seat was for me and I felt l stuck out like a sore thumb.
Now as the months have passed, I have become seasoned in grief. I have a completely different feeling about there being just one chair instead of two. I see it as a seat for ME. MY special seat in a room full of people who have seen me through all of the bullshit the last couple of years have served me. I have come to see the one chair as the warmest symbol of love and acceptance I could ever have imagined.
I’ve come full circle. The empty seat used to make me sob because someone was missing.
It was a reminder that I am alone.
Now I see the chair differently.
It is JUST for me.
It is a reminder that I am invited, and wanted and loved.
That I am NOT alone after all.
I am welcomed to the table.
I can sit there, rest there, and laugh there. (And cry there sometimes, too.)
It’s funny the odd things that are a smack in the face for months even years after a loss- the unused towel bar at his bathroom sink, the monthly magazine subscription he receives that goes unread, the empty flower pots and unfinished garden. You wouldn’t believe the rambling in my brain of tiny things that are huge reminders of loss. Every single day. I‘ve learned to manage most of them, even roll my eyes about some.
I can finally cross “table and chairs” off my list of things to get used to. I spun it into a positive. I’ve learned to turn sad thoughts into happy ones and I feel very thankful to have the frame of mind to do that.
For those of you who have friends who are alone because of death, divorce or one person short for whatever horrible reason, you don’t have to have a fancy meal, or anything special planned. You probably want to be supportive, but feel awkward because you don’t know what to do or say.
So I’ll tell you:
You call them and say, “Come over. I’ve got a chair saved for you at my table.”
