Organically Empty

Yesterday was my Father's Day celebration. I cried before my company arrived, remembering all of the previous Father's Days with my mother. I stood at the front door and envisioned my parent's car pulling up to my house. I saw myself run out to the car and walk my mother inside as my father emptied his trunk with all of the goodies he used to bring us. I saw her sitting in the lounge chair that was always set up especially for her. I dried my tears and went about my day. My company arrived and we sat outside on the deck. We talked, laughed and ate. When I went into the kitchen to get more food, I glanced outside and saw everyone seated around the table. For some odd reason my mother's regular seat was empty. No one sat there. Everyone organically gravitated to other seats. Her chair was still her chair, even though she was only there in spirit. In some odd way she was still included in the celebration.