Don McLean is most well-known for his iconic “American Pie” folk-rock song from 1971. (I’ll wait for a bit while you sing a few lines because you know that you want to.) But I prefer his hauntingly, beautifully sad song “Empty Chairs.” There’s a link at the end so you can listen to it. You might want to grab a hankie first.

The song is about him living alone after the love of his life left him. Apparently she had given fair warning that she wouldn’t be staying, but he didn’t believe she meant it. Here are the last two stanzas, courtesy of LyricFind.

Morning comes and morning goes with no regret
And evening brings the memories I can’t forget
Empty rooms that echo as I climb the stairs
And empty clothes that drape and fall on empty chairs

And I wonder if you know
That I never understood
That although you said you’d go
Until you did I never thought you would.

There are many empty chairs around the world during this isolation the pandemic forced on us. Church pews, baseball bleachers, office chairs, concert venue seating, classroom seating of all types, restaurant booths, park benches, seats in movie theaters, hairstylist chairs, waiting room chairs, and even the chair your dentist’s assistant places you in while telling you to relax.

And maybe most importantly, our own chairs. You know…the ones around the dining room table where friends and family sit when we gather to share a meal. Or maybe it’s the front porch chairs we sit in to visit with people who drop by. Or the picnic table in the backyard where we play games. Or the chairs around the fire pit or the seating in our family room…all empty of the people we love.

It stinks.

I happen to really like chairs. My mother-in-law Rosalie gave me the one I’m sitting in right now; it belonged to her mother so it holds special meaning to me. And when I was getting ready to retire from my office job, I asked the company’s president to just let me take home a side chair from my office instead of buying me a gift.

And during the two years when our family was in transition house-wise, most of our household furniture and belongings were in a storage unit. We’d occasionally stop by to pick up one thing or another, and each time, I’d pull out the rocking chair where I had lulled my babies to sleep. I just wanted to sit in it for a few minutes and feel my sense of home.

As beautiful and meaningful as chairs are to me just as they are, I am impatient to fill them with people. My guess is that I’m hearing a chorus of AMENS! out there!

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Don McLean and Empty Chairs