My partner, Alex, had a passion for Thanksgiving. He thrived on hosting family gatherings and loved filling our home with friends. Most of all, he cherished the idea of not having to drive home afterward. (Just kidding, sort of.) The first Thanksgiving we celebrated in our forever home was magical for him; he took great delight in carving the turkey, fully embracing his dream of a family, a cozy home, and a beautifully set dining table with no empty chairs.
Tragically, Alex was diagnosed with brain cancer before he could host another Thanksgiving. He passed away before carving another turkey.
The first holiday without him is a foggy memory. My sister arranged the festivities that year, and all I could focus on was the void left by his absence. The table felt eerily quiet, and I distinctly recall the chair that was meant for him remaining empty.
Since then, that empty chair has become a poignant symbol at our Thanksgiving table. (Just to clarify, I mean that in a figurative sense, not literal.)
Fast forward to this Thanksgiving—I’m in a serious relationship with someone new. The emotions that come with that statement are complex. Navigating life as a widow is no small feat, particularly during family-oriented holidays that demand emotional balance.
This year, my sister-in-law, Alex’s sister, is hosting Thanksgiving and has invited my boyfriend, who has been in my life for a year and a half. If he’s not working, this will be his first holiday with my late husband’s family.
So, this Thanksgiving, we’ll have an empty chair and an extra chair at the table.
I’m uncertain how this will unfold for me, my kids, my boyfriend, and Alex’s family, who have welcomed me with open arms. I anticipate challenging moments for everyone involved. Balancing the memory of my husband while making space for my boyfriend requires a strength that often goes unappreciated. My in-laws demonstrate this strength in countless ways, from sharing memories of Alex to listening to their grandchildren recount funny stories about my boyfriend, who occupies a place in their lives because their son cannot. Although they appreciate the new man in their grandchildren’s lives, he serves as a constant reminder of their profound loss. Yet, they have chosen to welcome this new dynamic and invited him to join us at the Thanksgiving table.
My children excel at creating and holding space for both the past and the future. Their ability to seamlessly weave together stories about their dad and my boyfriend sets a remarkable example for all of us. They candidly discuss what was and then, without skipping a beat, inquire about what’s next. They have grown to care for my new partner and often wonder aloud if their dad would have liked him too.
I tell them I believe he would. After all, my boyfriend must also navigate the delicate balance of acknowledging the empty chair. It takes tremendous effort to make room for an extra chair at a table shaped by loss. A table that includes both an empty chair and an extra chair can only thrive if the person occupying the extra chair is at ease with the empty chair, honoring the memories that linger.
For me, the work of making space for my boyfriend while holding onto my husband’s memory is a continuous journey. Guilt and grief often intertwine with hope and joy, requiring patience and grace. Integrating Alex’s stories and memories into my new relationship while respecting my boyfriend’s need to forge our own path can feel like an overwhelming task, akin to being squeezed between two seats on a cramped airplane. If I were solely responsible for accommodating the extra chair while honoring the empty one, it would be suffocating.
Fortunately, I’m not alone. My in-laws are embracing my happiness, my kids are learning to live vibrant lives despite their loss, and my boyfriend possesses the courage to pull up a chair. If I take a moment to breathe, I can see the space between the empty chair and the extra chair for what it truly is—a reminder to cherish the present moment. This is the essence of navigating life between an empty chair and an extra chair.
This article was originally published on November 5, 2021.
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Summary:
This Thanksgiving, a widow faces the challenge of balancing the memory of her late husband with her new relationship. As her boyfriend joins her late husband’s family for the holiday, the dynamics of the table include both an empty chair and an extra chair, symbolizing the ongoing journey of love, loss, and new beginnings.
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