For many families during the holidays unfortunately, there will be an empty chair. An empty place setting at the table.
An empty chair sits at our table because Mike is not there. An empty chair means that we look around for him but he is nowhere to be found.
All that remains is a void, a space where he should be. I'm trying to push this reality from my mind but after I loaded my vehicle down with holiday groceries earlier today, I had a full on breakdown the entire drive home. I haven't had a good "can't breathe, sob out loud, can't see the road" kind of cry in a while. And stupid pecan pie and cinnamon rolls did it.
The day my husband died I made cinnamon rolls. I literally have not been able to eat a cinnamon roll since that day. I had baked them and called Mike to tell him they were done. I asked if he wanted me to bring him some but he had already left the farm. Just a few hours later, when the cinnamon rolls had grown cold, the love of my life died, alone, at our concrete plant, and was found half hanging out of the concrete chute. His legs and hips were exposed but his front end was not visible, as it rested lifeless in the chute.
So cinnamon rolls, the kind from a can that we can freshly bake on our own, are just one of my nemeses. And then there is pecan pie.
This Thanksgiving staple makes my chest tighten and my breaths become labored. Crazy, right? Mike loved pecan pie and one year it was my mom's duty to provide the sweets. Mike ate that pie and raved about how good it was, offering compliment after compliment to my mom. The evening continued and when he went back for another piece, he complimented again saying , "Good job on the pie, Jackie." To which mom replied, "oh, well I didn't make it...it's Marie Callendar." Mike laughed so hard! He was like, I complimented her multiple times today and she never came clean until the very end and she literally just forgot she had actually bought it instead of made it!! For the Thanksgivings Mike was still alive after that, he teased my mom always with, "where's that famous pecan pie you make, Jackie?"
Goodness. So two foods that usually fill homes during Thanksgivig and Christmas are two that I just can no longer handle.
The day my husband died I made cinnamon rolls. I literally have not been able to eat a cinnamon roll since that day. I had baked them and called Mike to tell him they were done. I asked if he wanted me to bring him some but he had already left the farm. Just a few hours later, when the cinnamon rolls had grown cold, the love of my life died, alone, at our concrete plant, and was found half hanging out of the concrete chute. His legs and hips were exposed but his front end was not visible, as it rested lifeless in the chute.
So cinnamon rolls, the kind from a can that we can freshly bake on our own, are just one of my nemeses. And then there is pecan pie.
This Thanksgiving staple makes my chest tighten and my breaths become labored. Crazy, right? Mike loved pecan pie and one year it was my mom's duty to provide the sweets. Mike ate that pie and raved about how good it was, offering compliment after compliment to my mom. The evening continued and when he went back for another piece, he complimented again saying , "Good job on the pie, Jackie." To which mom replied, "oh, well I didn't make it...it's Marie Callendar." Mike laughed so hard! He was like, I complimented her multiple times today and she never came clean until the very end and she literally just forgot she had actually bought it instead of made it!! For the Thanksgivings Mike was still alive after that, he teased my mom always with, "where's that famous pecan pie you make, Jackie?"
Goodness. So two foods that usually fill homes during Thanksgivig and Christmas are two that I just can no longer handle.
But the foods that cause me to go into near convulsive sobs don't hold a light to the empty chair. And it's not just the empty chair during the holidays but literally sometimes I catch myself while sitting in my recliner just looking over at my couch and it's just blank; there is no one there.
Mike should be sitting right here... My husband, Conner's dad, Chris' son. But it remains empty.
And sure there could be someone in the chair to fill that space, but that chair might end up being empty for the rest of my life because I have set my standards high. Michael set them high, not only with what he did or said, but also with what he didn't do or say. So my standards, my expectations, my bare minimums that I will tolerate and fall in love with, are high. Not because I'm better than anyone by any stretch, but because I deserve good.
I deserve attention and affection. I had those with Michael and because of his attention and affection, I never doubted that my husband loved me in all my flaws.
I deserve honesty and openness. I THOUGHT I always had those with my husband; I have learned that I didn't. Not to the extent I should have. Otherwise, I would not be in probate court; life insurance policies would have all been correct; debt would not have been such an overwhelming surprise.
I deserve commitment and trust and loyalty. Mike had his infidelities before me but I did not worry about his lack of commitment to me and to our son; however, as the years passed it seemed often that his commitment was directed more toward making money to pay for his business endeavors. And he didn't even know if either of his sons wanted a part of it all, but he committed his life to providing a dream for them and I'm angry about it because that's what killed him. He committed so hard to it that he got us both in so deep, he could never stop. Until it killed him.
I deserve laughter and compliments and love so deep. I deserve happiness and security and longevity. I deserve love unmatched.
That chair might be empty for the next 40 years, I don't know. But I do know that for now, on the cusp of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the two year mark, I will look at the empty chair and I will miss all of the good things about my husband that made me fall so hard in love with a dark-haired, dark complected, hard-working, generous man.
Please say a prayer for peaceful hearts and survival for all widows/widowers and their children and families. Invite a widow to dinner! Open your home and heart to love and kindness and generosity and patience.
Grieving is a terribly difficult journey. Our empty chairs will always be a part of our lives, whether physically or metaphorically. Our loves are gone and we will miss them for the rest of our breaths.
May your home be filled with love and laughter, good food and good company, and may your chairs be filled with people you love.
God bless you all from The Hollis Family.
#stillhis
Love,
Veronica
I deserve attention and affection. I had those with Michael and because of his attention and affection, I never doubted that my husband loved me in all my flaws.
I deserve honesty and openness. I THOUGHT I always had those with my husband; I have learned that I didn't. Not to the extent I should have. Otherwise, I would not be in probate court; life insurance policies would have all been correct; debt would not have been such an overwhelming surprise.
I deserve commitment and trust and loyalty. Mike had his infidelities before me but I did not worry about his lack of commitment to me and to our son; however, as the years passed it seemed often that his commitment was directed more toward making money to pay for his business endeavors. And he didn't even know if either of his sons wanted a part of it all, but he committed his life to providing a dream for them and I'm angry about it because that's what killed him. He committed so hard to it that he got us both in so deep, he could never stop. Until it killed him.
I deserve laughter and compliments and love so deep. I deserve happiness and security and longevity. I deserve love unmatched.
That chair might be empty for the next 40 years, I don't know. But I do know that for now, on the cusp of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the two year mark, I will look at the empty chair and I will miss all of the good things about my husband that made me fall so hard in love with a dark-haired, dark complected, hard-working, generous man.
Please say a prayer for peaceful hearts and survival for all widows/widowers and their children and families. Invite a widow to dinner! Open your home and heart to love and kindness and generosity and patience.
Grieving is a terribly difficult journey. Our empty chairs will always be a part of our lives, whether physically or metaphorically. Our loves are gone and we will miss them for the rest of our breaths.
May your home be filled with love and laughter, good food and good company, and may your chairs be filled with people you love.
God bless you all from The Hollis Family.
#stillhis
Love,
Veronica
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