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The Empty Chair


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The Empty Chair

It's a 24 year old habit

Every morning when I awaken,

I look across the bed

To see if you are there

And if you aren't

I look

Out at your chair

Knowing you will be there.

That you had gotten up before me

And are quietly sitting in your chair

Meditating, being still, reading your Bible

Quietly waiting for me to awaken

Oh, you would have made the coffee

Quietly, silently so as not to disturb my sleep.

(I never knew how you did that so quietly)

But you wanted hot coffee ready

when I woke up

And that brought you joy

Loving me brought you so much joy.

But that chair is empty now

Every morning when I awaken

It is always empty

And every morning when I awaken

I am shocked

And tears fall

And another day stands in front of me

Like a Mt. Everest I must climb

Alone.

How do I believe my own eyes

Of course, I can

and so

I say to myself

it must be Sunday and you have driven

To the gas station

To get my newspaper

You knew I loved my Sunday paper

And having it on my chair

When I awoke

Made you smile

And then, wide awake,

the dread hits

Just the way it did the day after you died

It hits hard and deep...again and again

day after day

You will never sit in that chair again

Never silently make coffee

Never sneak out to get me a Sunday paper

This can't be true, my love

You just can't be gone

(But that chair is empty)

It has been empty for almost a year now

And I, too,

Am empty

A huge hole exists

Inside of me, inside our life together

No one can see it but it is always there

No matter where I am

No matter what I am doing

No matter who I am with

They think it is mostly gone now

Little do they know

(Unless they are one of us)

But I know

And you know

It will never go away

Tomorrow I will awaken

And once again

Habit, hope-

Will drive me to look at that chair

And though I know tonight

That it will once again be empty

I will see you there

Smiling at me

Blue eyes twinkling with joy

Because I am awake

And we can have

A simple cup of coffee together

Plan our day

Talk about our dreams

Hug each other tightly

And know that we will somehow always

Be together

Even though that chair

…your chair

is empty

and each morning

I will feel tears on my cheeks

Feel that awful dread

That tells me again and again

That you are gone

And those tears will flow

(I know they will)

until my chair, too,

is empty

© 2011 by mfh

Edited by MartyT
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mfh, your composition is wonderful. I'm repeating the message I gave to Kath last May, in hopes that you will follow through with the same suggestion. (That goes for any of our other members reading this, too, as the very same invitation applies to each of you. Some of us have a genuine flair for writing, and these publications provide marvelous avenues for anyone seeking to get their work published.)

The piece you've written is so beautiful that I'm wondering ~ Would you consider submitting it for possible publication in a magazine such as Grief Digest? This lovely periodical features articles on coping and dealing with grief and help for the caregiver, written by outstanding clinicians, writers and speakers in the field of grief intervention, as well as essays, stories and poems written by the bereaved themselves. You can write or call for writer's guidelines: Grief Digest Magazine, P.O. Box 4600, Omaha, NE 68104, Telephone 866-218-0101. On the Internet, simply go to www.griefdigest.com and click on Writers Guidelines. If you decide to do so, please feel free to tell the editor, Andrea Gambill (a wonderful lady), that I encouraged you to submit your lovely piece!

Living with Loss Magazine also invites contributions from readers (Bereavement Publications, Inc., P.O. Box 61, Montrose, CO 81402, 888-604-4673). You can request writer's guidelines via e-mail: grief@livingwithloss.com or go to www.livingwithloss.com and click on Click here to read and download our submission guidelines

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Thank you so much, Marty, for the compliment and for the lead to the magazines. I will submit it. I do a lot of these "poems" and Bill was a poet. I am putting his work together in a book just for friends/family. I do hope to write a book on grief someday and when I get my act together someday I will return to what has been a 40 year private practice but this time my focus will be on grief counseling. I feel a passion to assist women in my shoes...and it will also be one of the reasons to get up each day. I currently publish a local magazine and this next month I featured Bill and me at the prompting of many of my readers. Writing helps me to heal and support from people like you affirming that helps me to write.

Thanks again and I will follow up on your suggestions. Mary mfh

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Thank you one and all for reading what I wrote and seeing the beauty in the pain. I so appreciate all of your feedback and support and hope to support you also. Mary mfh

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It hurt so bad when I read your poem. I just sobbed and sobbed, it was as though you had taken the words right from my heart. I couldn't take it anymore, I had to move her chair to another room. I did that several weeks ago and now can't even walk into that room. She was the was that brought me coffee in bed, took care of me when I was sick, did EVERYTHING for me, spoiled me so bad that I didn't know there was another way of life other than what Sheryl gave to me. Four and half months and I am still falling apart. When will I ever feel any relief?

I am so sorry for your loss. That is a beautiful poem, thank you for sharing. If it is OK I am going to print it and save it.

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Those tears are healing...at least that is how they are for me. I always feel better after a good cry. I was also spoiled...so very spoiled. I am so sorry for your loss. I hear it gets better but right now, 9 months later, I am not experiencing any of that. I am so sad and so are all of us here on this board. You may print it out and save it. Peace to your heart...mfh

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mth, the poem is beautiful and speaks to everything I feel as well. Today is my birthday and each year, at midnight, Clint would wish me happy birthday. It was always so sweet the way he remembered. He was good at remembering dates. A whiz with numbers he was.

It was a melancholy day for me today. I wasn't really sad the entire day, but in part and simply lonely that we could not and will never share a birthday again.

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I totally get it. I turned 70 the day after I buried Bill which was also Easter Sunday....the hardest birthday of my life. What Clint did at midnight sounds just like Bill. Every month on the 22nd we would try to be the first to wish the other happy anniversary and he would frequently wake me at midnight so he would win. How we miss those things. No longer being first in someone else's life is one of the toughest pieces of this journey we must take. mary mfh

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I would wish you a happy birthday but I know it was not. I do wish you a year ahead that brings with it some sense of peace around all of what we have to deal with. That is my wish for myself also...but frankly I am a long way from that goal.

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mth, the poem is beautiful and speaks to everything I feel as well. Today is my birthday and each year, at midnight, Clint would wish me happy birthday. It was always so sweet the way he remembered. He was good at remembering dates. A whiz with numbers he was.

It was a melancholy day for me today. I wasn't really sad the entire day, but in part and simply lonely that we could not and will never share a birthday again.

I want to wish you a Happy Birthday too but now that it wasn't. I send you a hug.

Blessings and Courage, Carol Ann

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mth, the poem is beautiful and speaks to everything I feel as well. Today is my birthday and each year, at midnight, Clint would wish me happy birthday. It was always so sweet the way he remembered. He was good at remembering dates. A whiz with numbers he was.

It was a melancholy day for me today. I wasn't really sad the entire day, but in part and simply lonely that we could not and will never share a birthday again.

I want to wish you a Happy Birthday too but now that it wasn't. I send you a hug.

Blessings and Courage, Carol Ann

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mth, the poem is beautiful and speaks to everything I feel as well. Today is my birthday and each year, at midnight, Clint would wish me happy birthday. It was always so sweet the way he remembered. He was good at remembering dates. A whiz with numbers he was.

It was a melancholy day for me today. I wasn't really sad the entire day, but in part and simply lonely that we could not and will never share a birthday again.

I want to wish you a Happy Birthday too but I know that it wasn't. I offer you a HUG.

Blessings and Courage, Carol Ann

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Oh, I haven't cried for 2 days, but reading that poem just broke my heart. My Glenn would sneak out to get the weekend paper and be so quiet because I loved to sleep in. He always left a note in case I got up while he was out, so I wouldn't worry. Seven days a week I would come out into the kitchen and he'd be standing there with my tea in hand, and a big hug ready to go. Oh yes, I was seriously spoiled, too, and he used to tease me about that and I'd say, "Well, you've only got yourself to blame!" and he'd laugh and admit it.

Why do the fates give us these wonderful people and then snatch them away from us, far too early? Glenn would have said "That's life", but I can't get past the injustice of it. It's not fair, it's not fair, it's not fair!

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That is very poignant. It sums up the feeling all of us have. Sometimes I don't know if it's better to change everything or preserve it. Either way is hard.

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  • 7 months later...

Mary,

What a powerful poem. I so understand that feeling. That empty hole inside.

Thanks for posting it. I don't remember it from January, but then at that point I was deep in a grief fog.

You expressed that grief with painful beauty.

Hope you're doing okay...

Melina

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That is great news! It is a very poignant poem. My George was a gifted writer, I wish he'd saved more of his poetry, I don't know what became of most of his writings, but he had a way with words. Mary, this will speak to people for all time to come!

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Thanks one and all. Thanks to Marty for posting it. She also put it on her Grief Healing site and ironically the chair she pictured is almost identical to the one I wrote about....even the color. She also nudged me gently, as she does with so many of us, to see if Grief Digest wants to run it. As a result I sent it in and it will run in their April 2112 issue. If it helps one person feel heard or understood...that is excellent.

As for me, 7 months after writing it I still see that empty chair every single day...and it still feels like Mt. Everest lies in front of me on most days. You all know. Some days it feels like it is a tad easier and then wham....I get ambushed and knocked right off my feet as the waves come crashing in.

Peace friends and thank you, Marty. Someday I will publish a couple of Bill's poems...I am copying them, slowly, into inDesign (layout program) and will have a book made from them just to give to certain people. Most are so personal I find the thought of sharing them challenging. He wrote poems to me many times a month.

Peace,

Mary

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