Poetry And Prose

The Empty Chair

There’s an empty chair in our house and I am nor sure what to do with it. It’s been empty a long time, and though we’ve moved more than a few times since it became empty, we still haul it around with us.

It’s not a particularly classic chair or even a very pretty one, and it is empty all the time. Whenever we move, I never really know which room to put it in, but once it has found its place, I’ve noticed that it simply stays there. No one moves it, no one suggests putting it away. No one sits in it. It’s just an empty chair.

We have been a military family for many generations, and we are used to having members of the family off in faraway places for what often turns out to be long periods of time. My father would sometimes be gone for up to a year, or even two. His chair was often empty at the table. My husband’s military career took him away for many months at a time, and his chair was often empty. Then, when our daughter was commissioned in the military, we knew her chair would also be empty sometimes. So empty chairs at our house are not an uncommon thing, but this chair—this chair should never have been empty.

As the holidays approach, I am always faced with the task of deciding what to do with our empty chair. Should we put it away for the season? Should we decorate it or should we just ignore it? One year we did decide to put it away, but even though it was an empty chair, it left an even bigger empty space when we moved it to another, less occupied place. How can that be? How can something that is empty leave a bigger empty space when it's gone?!

We've tried to ignore it, but its emptiness is very loud, and it is hard to miss an empty chair in a room filled with people sitting in all the other chairs. And even when we could manage to ignore it, others could not, and they always commented on it. An empty chair is not invisible.

Then, one year, we decided to simply include it in our holiday decorating scheme and that was the cause of some interesting discussions. Should we put a special holiday pillow in it? What about tossing a colorful quilt or afghan over the back? Should we put something in the chair so it wasn't empty? Now that was a novel idea! But nothing we tried could fill the emptiness of that chair. It just sat silent like a sentinel, waiting for something . . . or someone.

It took us many years of living with that empty chair, day in and day out, to finally figure out what to do with it. When we serve our meals, those chairs that would have been occupied by the assigned person (yes, we do assigned seating at our house) can be filled by other family members or guests. You get to use the sterling silver napkin ring with that person's name on it, and if you are lucky, that person has not lost a knife or fork or spoon over the years, so you will have a complete place setting of silverware. You must endure listening to tales about the person whose chair you are occupying.

It makes for some lively conversations and that way, even though you may not be with us for this occasion, your presence is still in our life. That works for our empty chair as well. It is a military custom to always set a place at the table for those who are not with us at this time, but whose lives are still within our hearts. So, we have a place setting, complete with silverware (all 6 pieces), dishes, crystal goblet and napkin ring. Our empty chair is pulled up to the table and a single rose is placed on the plate, a symbol of everlasting love.

We join hands in thanksgiving, completing the circle with the empty chair within our family circle, for even though death may have come, love never goes away. That empty chair now represents all of us who ate not with us for this occasion but who live within our hearts forever. It is not a sad sight, because we know that empty chair represents a love we have known and shared, and with that gift, our family is forever blessed.

So, if your holiday table will have an empty chair this year, remember that it is not truly an empty space. That place is still occupied by the love and joy of the one who sat in it. Don't hide that chair away. You may not wish to bring it to the table as we do, but take time this holiday season to remember the laughter, the joy, the love, the light of those who are no longer within hug's teach, but whose love still fills us with gratitude. Join hands around your table, however small, and say a prayer of thanksgiving . . . for the love you have known and still hold deep within your heart. You are rich beyond measure for having had a chair fulfilled. Don't let death rob you of the heart space that love keeps.

No one has sat in our little empty chair for twenty-five years . . . until this season. The table is still set with a place for all of those who are not with us on this occasion, but the empty chair at our house has been tilled with the tiny spirit of a new life as she found that chair to be, "just the right size, Grandma."

We are a family circle, some chairs filled and others not, broken by death, but mended by love.

© Darcie Sims

Our grief always brings a gift.

It's the gift of greater sensitivity and compassion for others.
We learn to rise above our own grief by reaching out and lessening the grief
of others.

Dr. Robert Schuller

While you were sleeping

While you were sleeping you could not see
That God sent an angle to watch over thee
While you were sleeping you did not know
How beautiful the angel was and all aglow
While you were sleeping your head near your arm
The angel was watching and keeping away harm
While you were sleeping you tossed and you turned
Your mind was dreaming of someone you yearn
While you were sleeping and you started to cry
The angel with her wings wiped the tears from your eye
While you were sleeping your subconscious took control
The angel protected your life and your soul
While you were sleeping you were calling their name
Since that day you have never been the same
While you were sleeping you heard someone say
I will watch over you till your dying day
While you were sleeping just before you awoke
You thought this dream was just a wild joke
Then your eyes opened and you now see
Just how precious that life can be

© Author: Robert Walters Sr
Robbie Sr.
I found my Son and Cried, but I wish it was I who died!
Dad of Robbie - Hanging 8/16/1973 - 12/14/2002
http://www.fosv.com

When Someone Takes His Own Life

by Norman Vincent Peale

In many ways,
this seems to be the most tragic form of death.
Often the stigma of suicide is what rests
most heavily on those left behind...

The Bible warns us not to judge,
if we ourselves hope to escape judgment.
And I believe that this is the one area that
Biblical command especially should be heeded.
For how do we know how many valiant battles such a
person may have fought and won before he
loses that one particular battle?
And is it fair that all the good acts and impulses of
such a person should be forgotten or blotted
out by his final tragic act?

I think our reaction should be one of love and pity,
not of condemnation.
Perhaps the person was not thinking clearly in his final
moments; perhaps he was so driven by emotional whirlwinds
that he was incapable of thinking at all.
This is terribly sad. But surely it is understandable.
All of us have moments when we lose control of ourselves,
flashes of temper, or irritation, or selfishness that we later regret.
Each one of us, probably, has a final breaking point - or
would have if our faith did not sustain us.
Life puts far more pressure on some of us than it does on others.
Some people have more stamina than others...

My heart goes out to those who are left behind,
because I know they suffer terribly...
The immediate family of the victim is left wide
open to tidal waves of guilt:
"What did I fail to do that I should have done?
What did I do that was wrong?"
To such grieving persons I can only say,
"Lift up your heads and your hearts.
Surely you did your best.
And surely the loved one who is gone did his best,
for as long as he could.
Remember, now, that his battles and torments are over.
Do not judge him, and do not presume to fathom the
mind of God where this one of His children is concerned."

A few years ago, when a young man died by his own hand,
a service for him was conducted by his pastor,
the Reverend West Stephens.
What he said that day expresses far more eloquently than I can,
the message that I'm trying to convey.
Here are some of his words:

"Our friend died on his own battlefield. He was killed in
action fighting a civil war.
He fought against adversaries that were as real
to him as his casket is real to us.
They were powerful adversaries.
They took toll of his energies and endurance.
They exhausted the last vestiges of his courage and his strength.
At last these adversaries overwhelmed him.
And it appeared that he had lost the war.
But did he?
I see a host of victories that he has won!

"For one thing - he has won our admiration -
because even if he lost the war,
we give him credit for his bravery on the battlefield.
And we give him credit for the courage and pride and hope
that he used as his weapons as long as he could.
We shall remember not his death,
but his daily victories gained through his kindnesses and
thoughtfulness, through his love for his family and friends...
for all things beautiful, lovely, and honorable.
We shall remember not his last day of defeat, but we shall
remember the many days that he was victorious over overwhelming odds.
We shall remember not the years we thought he had left,
but the intensity with which he lived the years that he had.
Only God knows what this child of His suffered in the
silent skirmishes that took place in his soul.
But our consolation is that God does know, and understands."

Could I Change Your Mind?

Would one more hug and ‘I love you'
Make you change your mind?

Would giving encouragment more often
Make you change your mind?

Would realizing it’s not just ‘teenage years’
Make you change your mind?

Would listening closer to what you say
Make you change your mind?

Would asking for your opinion more
Make you change your mind?

Would spending more time together
Make you change your mind?

Would going back and doing things differently
Make you change your mind?

Would answering your last phone call
Make you change your mind?

Would coming there when you were missing
Make you change your mind?

Would seeing how many people said good-bye
Make you change your mind?

Would knowing about the pain I feel now
Make you change your mind?

Is there anything I could have said or done
To make you change your mind?

I’ll always wonder and never know
If I could have changed your mind

© EA Gay
February 12, 2004 2:00pm

If I Could

If I could send
A hug to heaven
I would.

If only
God would let you
Hug me back,
Oh, how I wish you could.

If only
You hadn’t left us
To wonder
What we could have done.

To heal your heart,
To keep you with us,
As one.

Ginger Bethke
October 2002

The Man in the Moon

Do you remember the man in the moon?
In the stories from your childhood days?
He’s back to visit me again
But I see him in different ways

His face is not as clear as before
His features seem to have changed
His face distorted by the clouds
And with a sadness I have not seen

He was there on Wayne’s last night
Watching from above
A full moon shining down on my son
As he made his final decision

How can I look at that moon anymore?
And see the beauty in it?
I only see sadness and memories there
Reminding me of that night

I waited and waited for Wayne to come home
Told he was on the way
Looking at the moon and hoping it was there
To light up his way to me

Little did I know at that time
The end had already passed
And Wayne was with our heavenly Lord
Wrapped safely in His arms

In my mind, it’s too painful to remember
And my heart breaks once again
As I remember that night I waited so long
For Wayne to come home again

Do you remember the man in the moon?
In the stories from your childhood days?
I’ll never see him that way again
No matter how much I wish

The innocence of those stories told
When I was young and small
And the man in the moon was just a face
But now he seems to know all

His face seems to tell me that he saw
And that he knows about Wayne
His features are no longer innocent
And seems to hide from me

Maybe it’s the clouds that are passing by
Or is it the sad memories?
I hope the moon was beautiful that night
I know how Wayne treasured it

A full moon meant more in the sky
Than it did to most folks
Wayne looked for it every month
And knew the life beneath it

He knew the deer and animals abound
And forage during those nights
His time of nature and life continuing
Yet he chose then to end it

The full moon was shining bright that night
And maybe the last thing he saw
I hope it was peaceful in his mind
And gave him some kind of comfort

I imagine the Lord descending form above
With a light much brighter than the moon
And wrapping His arms around Wayne that night
And spreading His heavenly love

The full moon was shining on that night
But the Lord’s presence was brighter
I know he took my son by the hand
And lead him to His heavenly lands

Maybe the man in the moon was there
And guided Wayne through the night
Maybe his face was the ‘eyes’ of our Lord
And his arms were the light around him.

July 5, 2004 11:24pm

EA Gay, Wayne's Mom
11/2/87 - 11/10/03

I Wonder

I wonder where you are right now
I can't imagine I don't know how
I wonder if you made the flight
When you left on the tragic night
I wonder if our God above
Has welcomed you with his love
I wonder why you chose that fate
To end you life on that date
I wonder Why! Why! Why!
You could leave me here to cry
I wonder if you thought this through
And just how much I loved you
I wonder if you said a prayer
Before you climbed up on that chair
I wonder if you said goodbye
As you gazed in the nighttime sky
I wonder all sorts of different things
All I get is the grief it brings
I wonder if you knew in you heart
That my love for you will never part
I wonder if I was to blame
When I speak of you name
I wonder now but I know it's true
No one can ever take my love for you

© Author: Robert Walters Sr.
I found my Son and Cried, but I wish it was I who died!
Dad of Robbie - Hanging 8/16/1973 - 12/14/2002
~ Memorial Site ~

Quiet Sobs

The sobs are quietly muted
Behind my open palms
The tears flow freely
As I scream your name inside

The truth of your death
Just does not seem real
I look at your pictures
And think I’ll see you again

I cannot understand
Nor think of those last moments
Of how you ended your life
And I did not know

I brought you into this world
Though pain and suffering I endured
Why didn’t I feel your pain?
Before you made it end?

My dear son and first born
I do not understand
How could you end it all?
When the love was there for you

As a parent, did I fail?
To give you what you needed?
A strength to fight the world
To make your life complete?

I look at your picture
And my heart is raw and open
When I know I will not see you
Ever and ever again

You’re in His arms now
Yet my heart still bleeds openly
And I don’t know how to stop it
Or to make my life go on

My tears seem to come and go
As reality tries to take hold
I’ll never see you nor hold you
In my arms again

My angel is now your role
And unseen to my eyes
My heart seems to feel you sometimes
Yet breaks without you near

My dear son, I do not understand
The end of your life was not yours to take
Did Heaven called you early?
And leave me far behind

My prayers for you are nonstop
And the pain you felt that night
That drove you to end it all
Before I ever knew

Dear Wayne, I love you always
My son and first born of my life
Now my angel watching over me
As I struggle through every day

I know you’re here with me
But the tears continue to flow
As I miss you on this earthly world
And wait to meet you soon

I pray you found Heaven
And the wonderful lands of His world
Waiting there to meet me
When I’m called above

I always thought I’d be there first
To wait for you to come
But now, it’s you watching over me
With His heavenly love

My sobs are quietly muted
As I ‘think’ this through again
My tears flow freely and unhindered
As I pray and call your name

Knowing one day
As mother and son
That we’ll be together again

©EA Gay
August 28, 2004 12:11pm
~ Memorial Site ~

"Heaven's Latest Angel"

"Silently, one by one, in the infinite meadows of heaven,
blossomed the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots of Angels"

Such a little girl living grown up dreams
Shooting for the sky
With a smile and eyes that beam
Her living an example
Her death was a surprise
Heaven's latest angel
Finally gets to fly.

She touched so many lives
She made us see the light
Dreams are only dreams
Unless we live them day and night
Her life here may have ended
But her soul will never die
Heaven's latest angel
Finally gets to fly.

Nothing left to ground her
Spirit ... finally free
The world hers' to discover
"From sea to shining sea"
Yearning for the blue skies
As she waves one last good-bye
Heaven's latest angel
Finally gets to fly

~Author Unknown~

Pueblo Blessing

Hold on to what is good even if it is a handful of earth.
Hold on to what you believe even if it is a tree which stands by itself.
Hold on to what you must do even if it is a long way from here.
Hold on to life even when it is easier letting go.
Hold on to my hand even when I have gone away from you.

"God speaks to us in our pleasure but he shouts to us in our pain. Pain is His megaphone to arouse a deaf world."

C. S. Lewis

Jewish Blessing of the Mourners

Those who are worn out and crushed by this mourning, let your hearts consider this:
this is the path that has existed from the time of creation and will exist forever.
Many have drunk from it and many will yet drink.
As was the first meal, so shall be the last.
May the master of comfort comfort you.
Blessed are those who comforts the mourners.

~ The Mask ~

I feel as if I am buried alive
Yet I smile and respond with "Fine, thank you."
I have been appropriately conditioned, like fine leather
That no one wants to hear the painful truth.

An essential part of me, a limb
A constituent of my earthly being
Has been violently amputated.
Yet I laugh at the mediocre conversations
A verbal splash in a shallow puddle
Pretending to be a player of the words
That no longer have meaning.

My heart has been ripped from my bosom
No benevolence granted
No explanation
No apologies
Only cataclysmic pain
Only agony
No anesthesia remains, just the bitter pain.
Yet I wear the mask
Day to Day.

Pretending I fit in
But really I'm a foreigner to this new land
An alien language they speak.
And as I attempt to translate the words
Still, they mean nothing to me.

Sequestered in the mask
They hear not the music I dance to
Nor the words I speak
Nor the pain I echo
Nor the native language of my eyes
They will never really know me, behind the mask.

Dear Cheyenne ~ 1996 revised 1998 by Joanne Cacciatore