The Empty Chair at the Table

I thought I was making real progress in my grief. Then the holidays came.

Everything reversed. That first Thanksgiving and Christmas after Holli died, I fell right back into some of the deepest sorrow I had felt. The family gathered around the table, and she was not there. It felt like another funeral.

Christmas was not the most wonderful time of the year for me that year. It was the most painful.

One night I wrote to the Lord, How can I be happy when I am so sad?

What I sensed Him say back was not a lecture. He saw the empty chair too. He saw how tired I was, how I dreaded the shopping and the questions and the songs. And He did not tell me to push through. He gave me a few simple things to do.

Make a short list of what you can realistically do this year. Not what you used to do. What you can do now.

Take one day at a time. Just this one.

It is okay to say, “I can’t manage that this year.” When you need to step away and pull yourself together, let grace rule the day, not guilt.

Jesus said it plainly.

“Then you will know the truth, and the truth will set you free.” (John 8:32, BSB)

Honesty was the thing that helped me most. Be honest with yourself and with the people you love about where you really are. Let them know you are still healing and need more rest this year. If you need to leave the room for a while and go cry, that is not weakness. It is truth, and truth sets us free.

And it is not only the big holidays. A small one can knock you down too. A birthday. A cookout at a friend’s house where you feel like the extra person at the table.

And you will need some new traditions, but do not throw the old ones away too fast. Look for ways to change them without draining the meaning out of them. You are already grieving the person you lost. You do not need to grieve every tradition you loved too.

Ask your family to help. Talk together about the dreams your loved one had for these days, and see which ones you can still carry.

Remember this. You will not always be standing in deep sorrow at the foot of the cross. Holidays are coming when you will kneel by the manger again, and hear the angels sing, and mean it.

The day will come when your family talks about the one you lost as if they were in the room with you, not missing from it.

Those will be precious days. Hold on. They are coming.