The empty chair at the Thanksgiving table
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Late November through the end of December is my favorite time of the year. A season where the problems of today and the uncertainties of the future seem to temporarily fade. Frank Sinatra’s classic holiday song, “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” has a verse that says, “From now on our troubles will be far away.” I have always loved this line and somehow in my naivety, I find myself clinging to this unrealistic hope during the holidays even though I know it’s not possible – at least on this side of life.
This year has been a reminder of this truth as it is the first Thanksgiving where a chair at our holiday table will be empty.
I first became aware something was wrong with my dad six years ago when I took my parents out to dinner. In the car together, we collectively decided we would go for hamburgers, but when we arrived at the restaurant, my dad insisted we were at a barbecue place. He then placed the wrong order multiple times.
Soon incidents like this one became more and more common as my father’s memory evaporated due to a severe form of dementia or Alzheimer’s. It was not uncommon for him to experience hallucinations, be uncharacteristically cantankerous and even exhibit strange behavior such as sneaking out of the house in the middle of the Texas summer in his pajamas with no shoes on.
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Dad eventually came to the place where he had no quality of life, and I secretly prayed for God to take him. He lived a mere existence of eating, sleeping and sitting in a chair while staring off into space. Physically he was unstable, and my youngest son and I regularly were called by Mom to come home to pick him up off the floor after a fall.
Dad’s memory is like ‘home’– a place that is like no other. A place I always return.
Three days before he went into hospice, I did something I had not done since I was a child. I went to his house after lunch and lay next to him in his bed for nearly two hours. I reminded him of things in the past while constantly asking him if he remembered certain memories that stood out to me. I brought up both the joyous times, such as hunting and fishing trips, and painful memories, including the time a tornado destroyed our home. He did not remember the more recent occurrences but there were undoubtedly a few in the distant past that he could recall.
Jay Lowder and his father
I had no idea at that moment that it would be the last conversation I would ever have with my father in this life. Even though my dad lived another 10 days, he never spoke to me again.
Now, Thanksgiving has arrived and we will come together on this holiday for the first time without Dad. We will feel the sting of a departed loved one, a great loss.
Perhaps you are facing a similar scenario this year with an empty chair at the holiday table. Amid the feasting and fellowship and maybe even the tears, it is the perfect time to remember, to cherish and to honor your loved one’s legacy. A time to focus on treasured memories, look through past photos and reminisce about better days.
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My Dad’s presence was the essence of Thanksgiving because he lived his life in a spirit of gratitude, never complaining and always optimistic. The thought that one day he would not be sitting at the head of the Thanksgiving table was something I never imagined all those years we celebrated. The idea of our cornerstone being absent for the holidays, of his seat remaining empty, was unthinkable.
Jay Lowder and his father
I am grateful that though Dad will be missing this year, his impact on my life will never be gone. Dad was always the rock; when life brought the inevitable hurricanes, he was the eye of the storm where everything stayed calm…secure. I always believed Dad was somewhat invincible. Even in his 70s, Dad could outwork most men half his age. Nothing ever really jolted him off the center line. Faithful to Mom…check. Committed to family…check. Unwavering in conviction… double check. Steady in his faith in Christ…double check.
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Dad’s memory is like “home”– a place that is like no other; a place I always return.
Although my Dad’s chair will be empty this Thanksgiving, I have comfort knowing that he is not gone. My dad has only changed his address, and someday we will reunite there. Yes, the chair will be vacant, but hope is not and for that I celebrate this Thanksgiving.
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