On Christmas Eve, I laid the table for two, though I knew I would be dining alone. I took out the pair of crystal glasses from the cupboard, placing them carefully and stepping back to look.
Two sets of cutlery.
Two plates.
Two crisp, freshly ironed napkins.
It was as if at any moment he might walk through the door and tell me it was time to sit down. To say there was a chill outside. That Christmas wouldnt wait.
But he wouldnt come.
Hed been gone for almost a year now.
The phone remained silent. My daughter wouldnt be visiting. My grandchildren wouldnt be calling.
I ran my hand over the white tablecloth embroidered with flowersId stitched it myself when I was young. Hed always liked it, said it reminded him of the way my eyes sparkled years ago.
A fleeting smile crossed my lipsthe first one all day.
I cooked his favourite dishes. Not because anyone would come this year, but because this had been my way of life for so long. My heart still cant accept that the seat facing mine will now always be empty.
I sat for a while and gazed at the table. It looked beautiful, as it always did on Christmas.
I thought back to our last Christmas together. He looked frail, but sat across from me, smiled, and asked me not to shut myself away when he was gone. To keep living. Not to give up.
I promised him I would.
The clock ticked quietly. Outside, fairy lights glowed, people laughed, children ran about in the evening snow. Somewhere, the festivities were in full swing. But not in this silent room.
Late that night, the telephone finally rang. A brief exchange. A cheery, rushed voice. No questions, no real time.
And then silence once again.
I picked up the glass from his place at the table, lifted it slightly, and whispered my thanksfor the years, for the love, for the comfort of being someones.
Then I began to clear away the table. Slowly, calmly. Like someone tidying up a moment that will never come again.
I sat by the darkened window. Outside, Christmas carried on. But inside, there was only memory.
The table had been laid for two.
But one place remained empty.
Have you ever set a place for someone whos no longer therenot because you expect them to walk in, but because your heart simply isnt ready to let them go?
