Light Shines on the Empty Chair

The sun is just beginning to touch the windowpane, turning the dark into a soft, gray blue. You set two cups on the table again.

It was not a choice. It was your hands remembering a rhythm that no longer has a partner.

You sit there and watch the steam rise from the second cup, curling into the air until it vanishes, leaving the ceramic cold and untouched. That empty space at the table feels like a verdict on the morning.

But listen — the light does not require the table to be full to be present. The rising sun comes from heaven to shine on those living in the shadow of death, to guide their feet into the path of peace.

It shines on the empty chair just as fiercely as it shines on the one you occupy. The light is not confused by your grief.

It sits with you in the silence, waiting for the steam to clear so you can see that you are not alone, even when the other side of the table is empty. The morning has arrived, not to erase the loss, but to hold it gently in the new light.