The Empty Chair

For over a week, I have dreaded this day....my first visit to the Cancer Center since you left us, my dear friend.

I knew it would be hard, but I guess I had no idea how difficult it would actually be.

From the moment the elevator doors shut, at our usual, special entrance, I wanted to scream.  I felt trapped, I just wanted out!  Tears started to roll down my face uncontrollably and every fiber in my body told me to halt that moving tin box.  But, I knew deep in my heart, I had to keep going.  I made a promise to you Charmine and I don’t intend to break it....I will keep fighting.

As I tried to compose myself, the doors slid open.  Thankfully, no one was waiting to get on.  I walked by the treatment area, glancing in over the receptionist, and that’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks....Your Chair was empty.  You know the one;  the place you were sitting one year ago, when a terrified girl came in for her first chemo appointment.  There were so many open chairs that day and my nature is to gravitate towards the quiet, empty places.  But that day, I knew I needed to sit next to you.  As I walked towards the open chair next to you, my friend Sarah at my side, you smiled.  So, there we were, sitting in the two chairs, under the east window, surrounded by plants...you on one side, Sarah on the other.  The nurses started an IV (I didn’t even have my port yet), explained the procedure and started the infusion...and you, held my hand the entire time.  I knew right then, I would never be alone in this fight.

Every Wednesday after that, we sat together.  We weren’t always in the same seats, but we were always together.  Remember when we sat in the cubby area, because you had so many visitors that day, and I made the animal cookies dance for Sue and Teresa while they prepared our chemo?  Or, when we thought the satellite photograph of the lake was a picture of a tumor...we couldn’t stop laughing at how wrong it was to have photos of tumors in a chemo treatment area.  Although we were dealing with a fight for our lives, we were able to laugh and share.

And share we did!  It’s kind of funny (or at least I know you would think it’s funny), how many stories we shared during those weeks, probably more than we have ever shared with other people in our lives, but neither of us remembered what we had talked about by the next week....CHEMO BRAIN!!!  I wonder how many times we shared the same story over and over.

Today, the center was so busy, but as I glanced at your chair, it was empty.  The tears poured down even harder.  Everything seemed wrong, out of place.  Colors seemed less vivid and the normal laughter heard throughout the treatment area seemed muted...I couldn’t believe how deep the hole in my heart had become.

I made it through my appointment, with the help of some of our favorite nurses, who came in the room to hug me and share their love for you.  As I was trying to sneak out, my face swollen and red from crying, I made eye contact with another of our nurses.  She came to see what was wrong.  When I told her you had passed, she held me in her arms and told me to let it all out.  As I stood sobbing in her arms, I looked over her shoulder and again saw your chair.......

Since my arrival at the center, the sun had peaked through the clouds and shown down directly on your chair, illuminating it with beautiful rays of light.  I knew then that you were still with me and you always would be.  I also knew that you would be there for others, in that special, selfless way that is Charmine....I knew the next person who came in for treatment, scared and alone, would feel you there.  They would know that they weren’t alone...they would gain strength from your presence...as we all have.

The chair was still empty, but now it had wings.

Fly free my friend.

I will miss you.