The Empty Seat

We left on our first family vacation this week since losing Connor.  It’s the first time we had to book for five people instead of six.  In the week leading up to the trip, I got emotional telling someone about it.  I said, “the whole family is going”.  Nope.  Wrong.  I corrected myself to say, “Well, not the whole family….just the whole living family.”  Cue the tears.    

For me, Connor’s absence is palpable. Every new thing we see, I think how much Connor would have loved it, hated it or - at the very least - had something to say about it. He had a thirst for knowledge and he loved visiting new places. Despite being tired, he’d be up and ready to go every morning for whatever adventure we had planned for the day.

Today we went to a cathedral.  He used to love visiting them to learn about their history and marvel at the architecture. I’d oftentimes find him sitting quietly praying.  I remember thinking how mature he was even at a young age.   So today, I lit a candle for him, prayed for him and for my pain to dull and also thanked God for the time He granted me.  I wish I was praying for world peace or something completely unrelated to my son being gone.

His absence wasn’t ever more obvious to me than at dinner on one of our first nights. Often times, it’s hard to set a table for just five people so there is usually an extra space or chair. Another words, we had an empty seat. It shouldn’t have been empty. But it was. So, here I am.  Smiling for the camera.  Laughing at jokes. Doing all the things you do on vacation making memories.  But it’s just not the same because every picture is missing someone important…every joke is missing someone’s laugh and every new memory includes the pain of missing Connor. ∞