Hillary and I were creatures of routine in a lot of ways. We would have a number of places in each of our homes that were ours and that's where we would sit, lie down or whatever.
Once a side of the bed was established in a new home, we never changed. We'd experiment with seating arrangements at the dinner table and then those would be our places.
My spot in the kitchen was on the back bench of our nook looking out into the kitchen. I sat in that spot when we first looked at this house while we were looking for a home to buy. I won't lie, sitting there felt like home.
Hillary's spot was the chair on the right hand side of the table when you were sitting in it.
In our family's four person configuration, Isaac and I would be on the back bench. Paige would be on the short end of the table on the bench off the left of that image and Hillary would be in her chair.
Since Hillary died though, I find I can't sit in my usual space.
Partly this is pragmatic. It's only me who can get up to fetch more milk, extra utensils or more food now. But mostly I can't sit back there and look at that empty chair. Looking out into the empty kitchen.
We virtually always ate dinner as a family. That's hard now, doing it and remaining present while looking at her empty place is impossible.