You’re Not Alone: Depression and the empty chair

Column by Linda R. Jones

It’s been eight months now since my father died.  I knew I should expect some depression but not like the pain I feel every day.  I thought by now I would be feeling a little less sad.  It’s not working that way at all.  I have an emptiness that hurts.

I see a counselor every two weeks.  I strongly suggest to anyone whose loved one has died to do the same.  They can help you deal with the pain, emptiness, and depression.  They can’t “fix” those feelings immediately.  The logical part of my brain knows my father is gone; he’s not in pain anymore and he’s at peace.  My soul, however, still hurts.  I don’t want to let him go yet, because I felt like I never had him.

I never understood how people whose parents had died would still get teary-eyed years after the deaths.  I understand now.  My daughter-in-law’s father lost his parents over the past few years.  Every now and then he posts things on Facebook that are so meaningful.  Yesterday he posted a poem that struck home:

Of course, I cried when I read the poem.  That empty chair is everywhere for me.  I sit in my parlor, write in my journal, and look at an empty chair.  How nice it would be to chat with my father again.  I could listen to his jokes, reminisce, and just enjoy his company.  That can’t happen anymore and it hurts so much.

That empty chair, for me, is a metaphor for depression.  I reread the section on depression in the book “On Grief and Grieving” by Elisabeth Kübler-Ross and David Kessler.  It all came back to me.  That’s where I had read depression is a necessary part of grieving and mourning.  You will feel like you hit rock bottom.  You will feel like nothing matters anymore.  You will feel that you will never feel anything good again.

Kübler-Ross and Kessler refer to depression as an unwelcome guest that you should invite in.  They actually state, “invite your depression to pull up a chair with you.”  I put my depression in an empty chair (where my father should be sitting); I’d prefer to drop kick this unwelcome guest out the door.  I read more.  Depression keeps coming back.  Are you kidding me?  Can’t I get a restraining order or something?

Many friends and family members do not understand that when you’re in depression after the death of your parent you’re going to be there for a while.  It won’t matter if they try to cheer you up and encourage you to go out and have fun.  You can’t grasp a good time during this depression.  For me, the worst is people telling me to look at all I have to be grateful for and get on with life already.  I can’t.  Not yet.  Depression is holding me back.

My healing journey continues.  Join me.  I have a few empty chairs.  We can sit and chat or just sit in silence.  You are a welcome guest.

(Henry Alfred Rudolph.  Born April 2, 1930.  Died March 2, 2015.)