An Empty Seat at Supper

Tonight it happened. You know how smells can always take you back to a certain place and time? I experience this quite often as does most of the human race, I imagine. What I didn’t anticipate, however, was the overwhelming rush of grief that would hit me simply by chewing a seemingly innocuous piece of steak kabob.

I had given Joseph a hard time (teasingly, of course) about getting a chance to eat at Quincy’s Steakhouse in Florence a few weeks ago while on a golf trip. Bless his heart, he did his best to recreate that meal for me tonight at home. He even found a packet to make the gravy! It was a bona fide feast of grilled steak skewers, baked potatoes, beans, and yeast rolls.

I was already feeling a little low from earlier in the day when we had taken our daughter Caroline to the orthodontist for a full set of braces. While at that appointment, I made sure to bring all 20 pages of paperwork that I needed to complete for my new teaching position in the fall. While completing one of the forms, it hit me that for the first time, I wouldn’t be listing Carter as one of my beneficiaries or dependents. I wouldn’t be digging through the safe later on to find his little Social Security Card. Was his card still even IN the safe? I had a moment of anxiety just wondering where his card was…even though it was no longer needed, it was his identity. I immediately asked Joseph if we still had it, and he assured me that it is where it always has been. Tears just welled up in my eyes upon hearing that. Relief, maybe? Who knows…I felt a little embarrassed for showing emotion and just concentrated on filling out what remained of the blasted forms…forms that I resented having to complete because there was no reference to Carter ANYWHERE on them, and it hurt.

I came home and napped on the couch with Caroline and then tried to work on a new page for the blog to explain the significance of the blue butterfly. It took me forever to figure out why my two previous posts weren’t showing…I tried playing around with the template and background and wound up messing the whole thing up. In my frustration, however, I soon figured out the problem just by clicking on random buttons. I figured if I clicked on enough of them, something would change eventually and it would look like an actual blog again, primitive as it may be.

Side note…it helps to have a laptop now. As soon as I told Joseph last week that it was time to start the blog and that it would probably be easier if I didn’t have to do it on my phone, he came to me a few hours later and said a laptop was on the way. He immediately had gone to research options and bought me one. No questions asked. Thank God for a loving husband and for Amazon. Good stuff.

Anyway, getting back to tonight…Joseph made supper while I tinkered with the blog at the island and did a little victory fist pump when it came together and I was able to finally share the new page on FB. I buttered the potatoes and piled on good ‘ole sour cream and cheese, and then we loaded up our plates. There are 4 bar stools at our kitchen island. Somehow, tonight, while seating ourselves, I wound up at one end while Joseph and Caroline were at the other. The empty bar stool was to my left.

I tried my best to just not think about it. As I cut into my steak and took my first bite, I couldn’t help but go down memory’s lane as I thought about Carter and about how much he would have enjoyed this meal. He was a meat and potatoes little fella. Anytime we were out celebrating one of his many accomplishments, he would most often order a steak. Whether it be at Outback, the Peddler, or Texas Roadhouse, my boy didn’t discriminate. Steak was steak, and it was GOOD. No wimpy kids meal for him…he went all out and savored every bite.

The taste of that steak hitting my tongue was bitter, but it was no reflection of my husband’s culinary skills. It was the knowledge that once again, I am left to enjoy one of life’s simple pleasures without my boy. Joseph and Caroline were trying to include me in their conversation, but all I could do was concentrate on chewing and choking down each small bite that felt like I was swallowing a rock- all while silent tears streamed down my face. After a few bites it became too much so I simply got up and went to our bedroom- my sanctuary- and just wept.

There is nothing in life that can ever prepare your heart for this. I miss my boy so very, very much. I can hardly see this post on my computer screen for the tears that are blurring my vision even now, hours later. I thank God that everyday isn’t like this- that I have respites from the ache that is soul deep. He knows that I can’t bear pain like this everyday, that it would be too much. I know that tomorrow will probably be much better. But tomorrow isn’t today and today was hard.

There was one small victory, however. As I was laying in the bed wondering if I would ever be able to eat steak again and if it would now become one of the triggers that I would need to avoid, I simply came to the realization that I wouldn’t deny myself a meal that my boy would have loved. I was going to get back up, march into that kitchen, sit down, eat the steak, and I was going to make myself savor every bite. He would want that for me, so in honor of him and his memory, that’s what I did. And it was GOOD.