What Stays In The Chair After Someone Leaves

Grief does not always sound like grief. Sometimes it is just the chair that no one moved, still facing the kitchen, still where it was. This longer practice does not ask you to rearrange the room, or the absence, or yourself. With a slow voice and a bass clarinet breath underneath, it gives the body permission to keep remembering without being asked to resolve any of it tonight.

Transcript

Does not always sound like grief. Sometimes it is just the chair. The chair that still faces the kitchen. A chair that no one moves. This practice is called what stays in the chair after someone leaves. It is not asking you to move anything tonight. Let your back be held by where you are sitting. Let your hands rest where they fall. You Let your throat have a little more space than it has had today. Some losses leave loud rooms. Some losses leave quiet ones. A quiet room. Does not mean the loss is smaller. There is a way the body keeps the chair facing the kitchen. The way the body keeps aside of the bed empty. A way the body still listens for a door. This is not waiting. This is the body remembering. It is allowed to remember. Without being asked to stop. Repeat quietly. With pauses long enough to feel them. I am allowed to miss what stayed in the chair. My body does not have to move the absence tonight. Is quiet. Is not a problem to fix. I can grieve without resolving it. Mmm. The chair can stay where it is. The absence can stay where it is. You can rest here without being asked to put any of it down. For tonight. That is enough.