@jennifer_walks_with_him: The Empty Seat When you first left, I saw you missing everywhere. The passenger seat beside me. The chair next to me at church. The empty place at the movies. Your side of the bed. Every room seemed to point to where you should have been. And I hated it. I wanted someone there. Not because anyone could replace you— no one ever could— but because I couldn’t stand what the empty space made me feel. Alone. So I thought if I could fill the seat, I could quiet the loneliness. If someone sat beside me, I wouldn’t have to feel the weight of who wasn’t there. But grief has taught me something I couldn’t understand then. An empty seat doesn’t mean an empty life. I don’t look at that space anymore and wonder who will fill it. I don’t need to. Because now I notice the woman sitting beside it. Me. And I am enough. You loved me in a way that spent twenty-five years reminding me of that. And somehow, even in losing you, that love stayed behind… So the empty seat doesn’t frighten me anymore. It reminds me that I had a love worth missing. That I was deeply loved. That I am still whole. That I can sit beside an empty place without needing someone to rescue me from it. Someday, someone may sit there again. But he won’t be there because I needed the seat filled. He’ll be there because I chose to make room. Until then, the seat can stay empty. I am not.

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