The Vacant Chair: 2016-10-09

That Once Occupied Space

The vacant chair at the table is not empty, nor is the vacant space around the Christmas Tree, the omission in family pictures, the date on the calendar that was always marked as a birthday. Those spaces are filled with memories, longing, and perhaps even regret. Most of all, however, they are filled with love. There is comfort because the space will always be there, with love, delightful memories, and great appreciation for the short life that was once in those spaces.

The title of this blog is the name of an old song that was written at the beginning of the Civil War. The Vacant Chair, written by George F. Root in 1861 can be found on the website "Civil War Talk."

We shall meet but we shall miss him. — There will be one vacant chair. — We shall linger to caress him —While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.

When one year ago we gathered, — Joy was in his mild blue eye. — Now the golden cord is severed, — And our hopes in ruin lie.

CHORUS:

We shall meet, but we shall miss him. — There will be one vacant chair. — We shall linger to caress him — While we breathe our ev'ning prayer.

Verses two and three are also included on the site listed above, and they refer to the death of a young man on the battle field. You can search YouTube to find recordings of the song with its common melody. The most clearly and beautifully simple version is this Tennessee Ernie Ford rendition.

Thursday, October 13, 2016

Quote from "The Nightengale"

Quote at the end of a favorite novel...

"My two boys... Because of them I know now what matters, and it is not what I have lost. It is my memories. Wounds heal. Love lasts. We remain." - Kristin Hannah, 2015. The Nightengale. Macmillan

Our Story

One Tuesday morning as our middle child, a senior in high school, was leaving for school, he asked me if I would “please” iron his shirts. I agreed, and he started teasing me that I would "forget all about him, the 'middle kid'. I signed a pass for him to leave school early for his pictures, and agreed to request an hour earlier for the time so he could get some props for the picture from his friend’s house in the country.
He gave me his goofy smile, and said, "Bye, Mom."

I worked across the street from the photography studio, but had gone home at noon to iron his shirts. When 3:00 came and he wasn’t across the street, I drove home to see if he had retrieved his clothes – he had not.

At about 3:30 my husband, the sheriff, and a nurse came into the store and told me our son had been on his way to a friend’s house and his car and a truck collided on a blind intersection. He was killed instantly.That day changed our lives, and each of us in the family will remember it always.

One Tuesday afternoon years later, our daughter called us to tell us her brother (our oldest) had been in an accident. A man had suffered a catastrophic medical problem on a high-traffic highway, crossed a wide grassy median, and hit our son's car head-on. Our son was 43 yrs. old, married with two little boys. He was life-flighted to a trauma center where he and the medical team fought for his life, but he died after 3 days.

Our son had been planning for his future and eventual retirement. He was loved by his students, his friends, and most of all by his family and sons.

I cannot comprehend how I deserved these two wonderful lives in mine. They will be with me forever.