10-26-09 The Empty Chair

I believe that this photo was the last photo taken of my mom at home. The empty chair was where my dad, Clarence, sat. Out of habit and respect, family members rarely sat in this chair, though my dad was never possessive about his place in the family room. My mother was happiest at home, but who isn’t?

I have been thinking today about the events that bring families together: births, baptisms, graduations, weddings, retirements and eventually funerals. And as long as all those events come in proper sequence, it’s all good. It is the circle of life.

And empty chairs are eventually occupied again.

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5 thoughts

  1. Empty chairs are occupied again, but the memories of those who first filled them remain with us forever….thinking of you during this time.

  2. Seeing that photo brings back countless memories stretching over many years. Yet most of them for me were not on the ground floor. We would come in the door, greet your parents, and move to another level. I remember how we ‘Bears’ enjoyed music and the freedom of the entire upstairs after Mike left home. Most memorable albums: Abraxas (Santana), Tommy (The Who), Wonderwall Music (George Harrison). I remember over-aged unopened 6 oz. cans of Olympia beer; souvenvirs of trips to Washington wrapped in colorful, fine electric wires. You loved that your parents let that be ‘your space’. Later you/we moved to the basement and listened to music after you worked the night shift at the sheet metal plant. Unlike the lifers at the plant, you wore ear protection while working. You explained to them that it wouldn’t make much sense to use the money you were earning to buy a stereo without protecting your hearing. And, they said you were smart to be dating the daughter of the boss. And, you were.

    My recollection is that the thing you hated most about that home was the job of climbing on the roof to clean stagnant water out of the eaves. We camped ovenight a few times in the backyard. We ate mayberries off the tree when they ripened. And, I think there was a time when a hose was propped in a tree on a hot summer afternoon that doused Cub Bob Jones as he passed by on a bus. Ars longa, vita brevis. Tempus fugit.

  3. Pingback: Mom & Dad | A Photo A Day

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