The empty chair.

He’s missing.

From my table.

Our table has eight seats and one is always empty.

He’s missing from our lives.

He should be there, amongst the noise and the blur of colour, hands in with the others, hands in the mess of fish and chips.

Hands greasy, mouth full of fat- laden -weekend comfort food.

He’s missing from the weekend activities, the ball throwing, the friendly banter of comfortable siblings, the ebb and the flow of everyday life.

He’s missing from the conversations with grandparents enquiring about what each child is up to.

He never rates a mention.

Not anymore.

There are no progress photos of him lining the hallway, no portraits of a little guy with fuzzy blonde hair and an impish grin amongst the freckles, a painted masterpiece in the background.

There will be no preschool graduation for him and no proud, tear stained eyes as he reaches the important milestones.

He is missing from the constant move forward in this thing that we call life.

He will always be William, the boy who hardly was.

Frozen in time, a baby of five days.

There will always be that missing person.

There will always be an empty chair.

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Posted on August 12th, 2008 by Tiff
Filed under: Loss of a baby, grief

12 Responses to “The empty chair.”

Tracey (109 comments.), on August 12th, 2008 at 6:23 pm Said:

He’s only missing from the physical realm, Tiff. He’ll always be present in your hearts.
Alison (3xkewl) (51 comments.), on August 12th, 2008 at 7:03 pm Said:

Oh Tiff. How I am aching with you.
Sometimes ‘here in spirit’ just isn’t ‘here’ enough, is it?
Sending lots of hugs
Veronica (293 comments.), on August 12th, 2008 at 8:37 pm Said:

Not knowing what to say at all.

((hugs))
Xbox4NappyRash (67 comments.), on August 12th, 2008 at 9:08 pm Said:

Oh Tiff.

You can write about your family in a way that makes it so real for a reader, real even when I don’t want to know what it feels like.

You keep giving me a pinprick of the sledgehammer pain you must feel surrounding William.

I hate you, and love you for it.
Marylin (155 comments.), on August 12th, 2008 at 9:45 pm Said:

Oh sweety. Just, (((hugs))). LOTS of them. xxxx
me & boo (29 comments.), on August 13th, 2008 at 4:23 am Said:

((Hugs)) You’ve managed to completely sum up all the physical ways you miss William, and the way your heart misses him…
jeanie (70 comments.), on August 13th, 2008 at 6:54 am Said:

I have nothing to say - just lots of hugs.
Mary, on August 13th, 2008 at 8:02 am Said:

Hugs, Tiff. He is not physically present but look at the enormous gifts he has brought not only to you, but to many other people. I know. You want to hug him yourself, though.
Widdle Shamrock (80 comments.), on August 13th, 2008 at 9:48 am Said:

((hugs))

My heart aches with you.

Yeah, sometimes we want the physical prescence.
Amy, on August 13th, 2008 at 1:13 pm Said:

He is so real the way you describe him. The blonde hair, impish grin, freckles. I can just see him. xx
HennHouse (Karin) (52 comments.), on August 15th, 2008 at 3:09 am Said:

So heart-wrenchingly beautiful.
Childlife (157 comments.), on August 19th, 2008 at 2:38 pm Said:

Oh, how those ‘what if’s’ wrench the soul! Knowing your story, Tiff, I catch myself wishing I could somehow turn back time and intervene — make William’s life take another course. What an impact he has made on so many in his five short days here — I know I am forever changed from knowing him. Yes, knowing him. Your love keeps him alive and so very real. Anytime you need someone to remember with you Tiff, I’m your girl. Hugs, you…