The Table Has Turned

 

 

"A strong family has well-worn seats at the dinner table."

 

~Unknown~

 

"Sometimes, when you least expect it, tables turn and that scary feeling that has taken hold of you for so long somehow turns in to hope."

~David Archuleta~

 

 

Our beautiful mother, a staple in all our lives in one way or another, passed peacefully in to whatever is next on August 28, 2024. She was 91 years old. She'd been struggling for awhile, she was tired, and she was ready to be together with our dad. It was not unexpected. The immense feelings associated with the loss of the family matriarch, were indeed, unexpected.

Mom was loved by all, be they friend, family, or acquaintance. She always put other people first. In my opinion, sometimes to a fault and the last few months of seeing to all her medical requirements was eye-opening, puzzling...not something I recommend doing, yet it needed done. But this whole writing isn't about mom, exactly. You heard it all at her funeral or you've read the obituary. She was amazing. But this...this is about that table.

If you've ever been part of sorting things out with the death of a loved one, especially a parent, then you know, even when it's carefully planned, there is much to do. The funeral arrangements are the easy part. There are thousands of papers to look through, hundreds of items to donate, sell, or claim, wills enforced (with the help of an attorney) and the list goes on an on. Frankly, all the things that need done help to take your mind off the things you feel. And there are a million feels.

After every family member had laid claim to items they wanted in remembrance of our mother, we held an estate sale to move other items no one had room to store just for the sake of storing it. In other words, sometimes you just can't kick the can down the road to the next generation, who one day will have to go through your stuff. It's neither fair nor practical, and to quote several from the younger generation, "What are we going to do with that crap? We eat on paper plates." It's both sad and hilarious at the same time. Every generation is different.

I did pretty well throughout the sale, actually. I held it together as item after item that mom cherished went out the door for pennies on the dollar, off to a place to be cherished by someone else, or sold on eBay. As cold as it felt, it's just the way things are sometimes. As items disappeared from atop the table you see above, it finally hit. The last day of the sale I could hardly contain the tears (I didn't actually) as the realization that table was the anchor of our family my entire life came crashing down around me. 

For as long as I can remember, I've practiced a form of anthropomorphism. Cars, houses, animals, trees....have often taken on human characteristics for me (we're all made of energy, Bob) and this table began to talk in my brain. I could hardly let it go. The table seemed to share my sadness as it realized, after more than 60 years, it was going to a new home...a dark, non-child home and it felt as if we both were heartbroken.

Take a look at the pictures. The arms of the chairs are heavily worn from being pulled out and pushed in thousands upon thousands of times.  Every. Single. Important event at my childhood home happened around that table. The fine china was set for Thanksgiving and Christmas. I gagged on oyster stew for the first time one Christmas Eve at that table. There were birthday parties, family gatherings, discussions, Halloween Parties... hell, my dad who rarely laughed, laughed until he cried while sitting at that table while listening to a Justin Wilson LP. My parents played cards at that table, entertained friends at that table, and when I was 2 or 3 years old I napped under that table. That table was, inanimate though you may think, as much a part of our family as anyone breathing. 

Year after year after year after year, mom set things up for us to celebrate most everything around that table. And that table sat there silently and smiling, as we got up and moved to another room to open gifts, to do dishes, or watch TV. It held down the fort for long vacations and never complained as we grew older and moved away without even saying goodbye.  It even happily joined my parents as they moved to a smaller place in Lincoln where my mother continued to play cards and entertain friends around its warm embrace. 

As silly as it may seem to most, that table was a symbol of what it meant to be part of our family...of what it meant to be a Leatherwood. And now, that table is gone. And so is our mother, who went to join dad who moved on over 11 years ago. We have pictures and wonderful memories, but I never truly appreciated the importance of that table and chairs until it was going out the door for the last time. And yes, I said goodbye and thank you.

Life passes by in a wink and if things go according to plan, we all get a chance to carry on after grandparents and parents have died. It's our turn now, and I'll try harder to take notice of, not only the memories, but the things so important in helping us make those memories.

Tables turn and this one most certainly has.