A Place at the Table

So let's go over this again...
if you're wondering whether or not to bring up the Mom's dead child at a holiday dinner...

it's always a DO.

It's not going to catch the mother by surprise.  She is well aware her child is dead.  She gets no peace from this constant thought.  It is always there.

It's not going to upset her or make her sad.  She is already upset.  She is already sad.  It will, however, hurt her deeply to have no mention made of her absent child  while festivities go on as if she never existed in the first place.

These gatherings that celebrate family and togetherness when togetherness for you and your loved one is an impossibility....they are hell to go to and hell to sit through.  Am I clear?  I am living in hell every day I spend walking around this earth with my heart in the ground in the first place.  That is my baseline.   And then, you want me to come to a place where everyone is gathered, alive, and eat food, smiling and laughing while I am hurting so badly I cannot think straight?   And Cory is never mentioned?

 Instead of looking at an empty space at the counter or a chair that sits unused...could we make a space for my Cory-Girl?  Can we please set out a plate for her?  Her favorite pink cup that she always had to use every Sunday dinner?  Can we light a candle and set out a framed photograph of her?

Save her a space in our family.  Include her.  Make it impossible to NOT talk about her.  Somebody get up the balls to say what Cory liked best to eat or something funny she said once.  Somebody please say you wish she was here!  Are we thankful only for ones left that can belly up to the table and smile into our faces or are we thankful for the ones who can no longer do that, but deserve to be remembered, all the same.  Come on, people, I know you have some Cory stories in there somewhere.

Does it always have to be me inserting her into conversation?   If I'm the one who always brings her name to the table, well...I was the one accused of "wallowing" in my grief, wasn't I?

Thanksgiving this year was rotten.  It went like this:

Saw Mom and Dad.  Good.
Had a plate of food.  Nice.
Everyone was jolly and smiling, happy and joking.
No one said her name.  Not once.
It was a lot of pressure to look normal when I felt anything but.
Ate my food.  Got more ham.  Cut the first slice of pumpkin pie.  Shoveled it in.
Ran away from all those happy faces and sat on the couch with my knees up to my chin, taking refuge in a carb induced nap
Kissed my parents' dear faces.
Ran like hell.
Spent the next two days in bed, heartbroken, jealous, and angry by turns.

Here's the deal.  If Cory's not gonna be there...in some form...I'm not coming.  We are a package deal.

She's worth mentioning.