An Empty Seat at the Crowded Table: Thanksgiving musings…2024
Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Has been forever. Food, family, and football. Each family had its own, unique take on the traditions of the day. Some had been passed down for generations, while others were seemingly created on the spot to mark generational change. Still, the constant was family. My beloved crowded tables in every house, everywhere. For decades change simply meant more loved ones around the table. All of the old traditions and rituals grew and embraced the newcomers, making room for whatever wonders they would add to the majesty of Thanksgiving.
It was so easy to think that it would last just like this forever.
And then, one day, you put down your glass and look up over the last of the pies made just like they’ve been made since forever, and you see it. An empty seat at your crowded table. When did THAT happen? How did that happen? Where did they go? It’s jarring, isn’t it? There are all kinds of things that leave a chair empty at Thanksgiving. Some of them are common, expected. Grandparents depart almost on schedule, usually just about the same time that you start to collect young in-laws. Sometimes this change is more like musical chairs than emptying chairs. For sure you miss the super-elders, even if you didn’t really prepare for missing them. The last one always seems the hardest, though; every White family table will see the empty chair left behind when my Mom passed in June.
It’s the ones we don’t really expect, the ones we didn’t really see coming that you just can’t not see. Family members misplaced or lost with or without warning, seats unexpectedly emptied. These you see, and depending on the why you might see them not just that first time but for something that feels like it might be forever. If you are very lucky your table continues to welcome newcomers, continues to grow. A child is born. A nephew or a niece have a new special +1 who comes along, choosing to join you at your special table. If you are very lucky this part of the table’s story continues for a very long time.
Still, for many of us, there is an empty seat across the table that we see each time we put down our glass.
What to do, then, at this time of joy? Of family and friends and the warmth of gratitude for both? How do we leave room for the love we have for whoever it was who sat in that seat for so long, who we miss so much, without letting our love or our loss dim the glow coming from all of the other seats that are still filled with love? Like pretty much anyone my age I now have my share of empty seats around my crowded table, at least of couple of which I still see. How do we feel all of the joy and as little sorrow as possible? I’ve been accused on occasion of being a bit, oh, preachy I guess, so rather than offering any suggestions why don’t I just tell you what I’m doing this year.
It’s all too easy to say don’t think about the empty seats, or the people I wish were still sitting in them, but to be honest I really WANT to think about them, and I do really wish that they were here. I miss them, and there is an emptiness that I feel inside that is just as real as the emptiness of their seats. And so I give myself permission to feel that, all alone while I take my morning shower. I think of them, think of how much I love or loved them, and allow myself to be sad that they are not here. All alone except for the memories I allow myself to grieve. Sometimes I cry, the sobs that wrack my body drowned out by the sound of the shower as I let the water wash away the tears.
And when I’m done, when I’m all cried out, all of my sorrow and all of my hurt washed away, I emerge ready for the love that awaits me at my still crowded table. I leave behind whatever sadness I felt and start my day being truly grateful that once upon a time those seats were filled. That the people who filled those seats meant something to me. Mean something to me. And I walk toward my table deeply thankful for each of them. That they had once upon a time filled one of the seats around my crowded table, and that we were happy together. I silently thank each one of them as I step into the embrace that Thanksgiving has brought once again.
May you feel the love that once filled any empty seats that might be there today. May your table be overflowing with love from each of the seats that that are full of those who’ve come to share your crowded table. May you be bathed in this love today, and every day.
And may you have sweet, sticky, peanut butter-filled dates covered in sugar!
I am grateful for each and every one of you who have ever spent a moment with me, here, in my Restless Mind. I’ll see you on Sunday…
This entry was posted on Thursday, November 28th, 2024 at 11:50 am and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.