Part Three: Empty Chairs and Empty Tables

I returned home from a trip last weekend.  The trip had been planned and scheduled a year ago.  Whenever we would return home from a travel event there would be a big poster hanging in the kitchen window:  “Welcome Home, Dad and Mom” or in these last four years, “Welcome Home, Dad and Uncle John,” signed “Love, Rachel.”  There would be milk and goodies in the fridge, bread in the cupboard, normally enough food to last a week!  

There was no sign in the window welcoming me home last weekend, no milk or goodies in the fridge, no bread in the cupboard,  Three months have passed since we lost Rachel.  What I missed wasn’t the milk or the bread.  I missed Rachel!  Always will!  There is no way to fill the empty chair, that empty table, this empty place in me.

My focus, however, must now be on what I do have and those I love just as deeply as I loved my Rachel.   I have my son Paul and his wife Helen (and their sons, Austin and Nick).  Helen took me to the airport and wished me safe journey.  Paul picked me up at the airport on my return and welcomed me home.  I have my son Luke and his wife Kim (and their children, Ethan and Eleni). Paul and  Luke call frequently (and we text regularly).   By the way, Luke had a scheduled check-up at the Mayo Clinic in Phoenix, AZ while I was away.  No cancer!  I have Katie and her husband Liam over in England and two beautiful great granddaughters.  There is Matt and Emily and their two beautiful girls.  I have siblings.  I have very special friends.  I’m am a fortunate father, grandfather, great grandfather, brother, and friend. 

Life tumbles in and it’s tough to handle.  But life goes on even at the age of 82. As the great philosopher, Dr. Seuss, says:  “Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”  He goes on to say:  “You have brains in your head.  You have feet in your shoes.  You can steer yourself any direction you choose.  You’re on your own.  And you know what you know.  And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

Part Two: Empty Chairs, Empty Tables

Elisabeth Kubler-Ross introduced the “five stages of grief” in her book On Death and Dying in 1969.  The five stages are:

Denial:  “This can’t be happening to me.”

Anger:  “Why is this happening?  Who is to blame?

Bargaining:  “Make this not happen, and in return I will….”

Depression:  “I’m too sad to do anything.”

Acceptance:  “I’m at peace with what happened.”

Not everyone goes through these stages. Kuber-Ross said, “They were never meant to help tuck messy emotions into neat packages.”  They are simply responses to loss that many people have experienced.  Our grieving is always individual.

The loss of a loved one affects each of us in different ways. The important thing to remember is that almost anything you experience in the early stages of grief is normal—including feeling like you’re living a bad dream, or going crazy, or questioning your faith or spiritual beliefs.

The most universal symptom of grief is sadness.  Feelings of emptiness, despair, an abundance of tears, and feeling emotionally unstable, are typical.  Grief also involves physical problems—fatigue, lack of appetite, weight loss, etc.  All of these reactions are natural.  We will heal in time….

But, in the meantime, there is GRIEF.  There is an empty chair in my Garden Room.  Another chair at the dining room table is empty now.  Every photo of my daughter Rachel reminds me of what was and is no more.  That’s what everyone who has lost a loved one is handling within.  Our task is to be aware of that person’s loss, to respect it, and share in it if we can.