The Empty Chair at the Thanksgiving Table
The memories of my childhood Thanksgivings fill my heart with gratitude. Mom’s pumpkin pie. The turkey leg. The homemade whipped topping. Football coming from the living room television tube. Extra seats around the table for neighbors or out-of-town guests. A dinner rule that allowed for an exception of not eating all that is on your plate and still getting a piece of pie. One day out of the year, mom was fine with her children not finishing their plate, which worked out nicely for a picky 9-year-old daughter.
But then slowly we had one less seat at the table. In 1995, my brother, Patrick, died driving a work water truck for his off-the-farm job. His children and wife would still make an appearance on Thanksgiving holidays and we all would reminisce; telling silly stories of Pat that made us laugh until they made us cry. Mainly because we missed our brother.
Thanksgivings were different once I moved east and took my first job in Columbus, Ohio. I found myself at a new table with co-workers and their families. The food was amazing and the traditions slightly different. Still, I laughed until it hurt and cried, mainly because I missed my family.
Thanksgiving birthed a new meaning once I birthed a family of my own. New traditions and new extended family members gathered around the Thanksgiving table. Although the table was much bigger, it felt smaller as if someone was missing. I remember smiling when my kids drooled over the dessert table and asked, “Okay mom, I can eat just turkey and a roll and still get pie?” Yes, some traditions live on.
The hardest Thanksgiving was in 2008. My husband, kids, and I made our way west to Oregon to spend Thanksgiving with my family. We were looking forward to this – as it was going to be the first Thanksgiving for me to do this since I got married. A few days before, my father had a massive stroke, landing him in the ICU for five weeks. On Thanksgiving Day, my sisters and I watched our ill mother, hooked up to oxygen, covered in warm blankets, wheelchaired to see her husband of 40 plus years. She held his hand, bowed her head and said a prayer. Afterward, we all went home to eat Thanksgiving dinner and through the grace of God, our mother still could have a helping hand in preparing. Even with 30-plus people around the table, the house felt quiet. Our father's presence was deeply missed. Dad loved watching football. He loved the turkey leg and the homemade pies. Most of all, he loved his family.
The Thanksgiving my kids remember the most is when six months after my mom passed in 2011, we all decided to gather around the table back in Oregon. Still to this day, my kids remembered the menu – turkey and prime rib and that it was okay to have both. They remember the time with their cousins and playing football in the front yard. I remember the prayer that made me cling to my family a little tighter. The glue to our family was gone. My late mother was a tiny woman that left a big seat.
This Thanksgiving, I’m okay if my kids only eat turkey, a roll and pie, and football will be on the living room television and extra chairs will be available for the out-of-towners.
It is certainly hard to see the empty chairs around the Thanksgiving table. A lifetime of memories will make you smile and then cry. Count your blessings friend. You don't know all that can change from one Thanksgiving to the next. A lot has changed for me over the past 25 years, but I'm still thankful for the simple traditions and the best family a farm gal could ask for.
