The Empty Chair at Every Milestone

In the past couple of weeks, my daughters both had a dance recital and their first swim meet. Tomorrow my son will graduate from Pre-K, and next week will be a flurry of awards ceremonies, classroom parties, and the much-anticipated last day of school.

It's a busy season filled with celebrations, excitement, and joy. But underneath it all, there's a heaviness I can't quite shake.

This will be the third end-of-school season without my husband, and his absence feels especially noticeable during this time of celebration. Every recital, sporting event, and ceremony seems to come with an empty chair beside me.

He should be here snapping photos and beaming with pride. He should be rolling his eyes when I cry at the preschool graduation and laughing about it with me afterward.

More than anything, I miss having him beside me to share the pride, the joy, and the bittersweet realization that our children are growing up faster than we'd like.

These moments are joyful, and they are heartbreaking. The children keep growing, collecting memories and accomplishments, while the person who should be sharing them with us is missing.

Grief has a way of showing up at milestones. Even years after a loss, the moments that should feel purely joyful can shine a spotlight on the person who isn't there to experience them with us.

I’m beginning to realize that many of us carry our own version of an "empty chair" into these moments. Sometimes just knowing someone else understands can make the load feel a little lighter.

What milestone has felt especially difficult since your loss?

I'd love to hear your experience in the comments or in our private Facebook community.