Empty Chairs And Empty Tables in Red

Imagine standing before this scene—a dimly lit room draped in the quiet echoes of absence. The crimson tablecloth cascades like spilled blood, vibrant and unruly, a reminder of the life and passion that once gathered here. Candles burn faintly against the consuming darkness, their flames flickering as if mourning the voices that have faded. The empty chairs, pulled back and still, hold the weight of those who are no longer present, their silence deafening.

As I look at this, I am drawn to the parallel with my own journey. This table could be my battle against cancer—a place where life once overflowed with certainty and connection, now a space for reflection and rebuilding. The red is the crucible of pain, of treatments endured, yet it’s also the color of strength, of a heart that keeps beating against all odds.

Each chair represents someone lost, someone who supported me but could not stay. Yet their absence reminds me of why I must continue, of why this fight matters. The light streaming through the window doesn’t promise answers, but it promises hope—a reason to rebuild, to fill the chairs with new stories, new connections, and the strength to carry on.

I present this to you, not as a reminder of emptiness, but as a testament to resilience. To all of us who have faced adversity, who have felt the crushing silence of empty chairs and empty tables, this is our declaration: we are still here. We light the candles, we hold onto hope, and we honor those no longer with us by living for them and ourselves.