On Christmas Eve, I Set the Table for Two Though I Knew I Would Dine Alone

Christmas Eve. I set the table for two, though deep down I knew Id be sitting alone. I took down the pair of crystal glasses from the cupboard, handling them carefully before placing them side by side. I stepped back for a moment, just looking.

Two sets of cutlery.
Two plates.
Two linen napkins, pressed until crisp.

It almost felt as if, any minute now, hed walk through the door, telling me it was time to sit down. That it was cold outside. That Christmas doesnt wait.

But of course, he wouldnt be coming through the door. He hadnt been here for a year now.

The phone was silent.
My daughter wouldnt be coming.
The grandchildren wouldnt be calling.

I ran my hand over the white tablecloth embroidered with tiny roses. I made it myself, in my twenties. He used to love it, always saying it reminded him of my eyes when we first met. For a fleeting moment, I smiledthe first out of the whole grey day.

I cooked his favourite dishes. Not for company, not for anyones arrival, but simply because it was who Id always been. Because my heart cant quite accept that the chair across from mine will stay empty.

I sat and gazed at the table. It was lovely, just as it always was at Christmas.

I thought of our last Christmas together. He was frail that year, but he took his seat across from me, smiled and asked me not to lock myself away when he was gone. To carry on. Not to lose hope.

I promised him, then.

The clock ticked quietly. Outside, fairy lights sparkled, laughter drifted down the street, childrens cheers echoed over the frost. Somewhere, there was celebration. But not in this still, silent room.

Late in the evening, the phone finally rang. A short conversation. A festive voice. Hurried, no questions, no time for more.

Silence again.

I took his glass from its place, lifted it gently and whispered my gratitudefor the years, for the love, for the privilege of having belonged to someone.

Then, I began to clear the table. Slowly, carefully. The way you clear something away when you know it may never happen again.

I sat by the window in the darkness. Outside, Christmas continued on, bright and shimmering. Inside, all that was left was memory.

The table had been set for two.
But one place remained empty.

I wonderhave you ever prepared a place for someone who is gone? Not because you really expect them back, but because your heart simply isnt ready to let go.