The Briar Philosopher - Setting a Place for Love

About now,  folks are thawing turkeys or hams and getting ready to gather round the table to celebrate the gift of family and friends. It should be a joyous occasion as we tend to appreciate the company of loved ones more after we haven’t seen them for a while.  We’ve lost a lot of people here in Jackson County over the last year, and that will color how we celebrate this season of thanks.  There will be many tables with empty seats, and many faces will turn to sorrow from time to time, remembering those who did not make the journey with us into this year. 

I know that grief tends to make us want to turn away from memory. I understand that, but maybe, just maybe, it would lessen our grief if we turned toward memory this time instead. In some cultures, there is a tradition of setting a place at the table for those who have gone on. It includes them in a life they no longer share with us in a physical sense and allows us to remember them and feel their presence here with us. It allows us to recall their voice and the stories they would tell. If we knew them well, we can even know what they would have said in answer to some quip or statement around the dinner table, and in a very real way, they are once again a part of our celebration.  Chances are we know what they would have on their plate and which pie they would prefer as well.  It may be too soon for some and too painful for others but, for some, it may be a way to reclaim some of the joy we felt while they were with us, replacing some of the grief we feel in their absence.

I have lost a lot of people who meant the world to me, and I know pretty much everyone has, particularly if you’re past the half-century mark like me. I don’t have a big enough table to serve them all in spirit, but I will certainly recall them to me as I give thanks and remember their story and their presence.

When it comes right down to it, we are all made up of the stories and lives of others and how they have influenced our days on this planet.  We are a part of an unbroken line of stories going back generation upon generation, and all that came before us colors who we are today.  Our penchant to wish to forget so that we may avoid pain can cost us dearly. The Boy and I were just talking the other day about the fact that we don’t pass stories down like we did in the past.  It used to be commonplace to sit around the table or the wood stove, or the porch, and listen to the stories about our ancestors. Somewhere in between the tall tales told and the truths shared, we got a sense of where we come from and of who came before us. Such stories can help us decide who it is we want to be and what it might be best for us to avoid. Such stories can help us overcome hardships and give us hope for times to come.  They are our stories. It may be that if we set a place, at least in our hearts, for those who are no longer with us, we will be more likely to tell their stories and their lives and experiences can go right on being a part of our lives. It is to my way of thinking that someone need not be “gone” just because they have left us physically.  My mother walks the garden with me all the time, and my friends who couldn’t stay in this life with me still grace my days with laughter and introspection.  For that, I am truly thankful.  Sometimes, if we hold our eyes and our hearts just right, we find that what we thought we had lost is still right here with us every day in a very real way.

I wish you all a joyous and peaceful Thanksgiving.  May your plates and your hearts be filled with gratitude for all the blessings you have received, and may you embrace your family and friends, even those who are departed, with renewed joy.