Suddenly and unexpectedly, my father passed away about  five months after my wedding day. The next month, only because it would have pleased him, I went to my distant cousin’s barbecue for the extended family. Dad, being a larger-than-life, life of the party kind of guy, was noticeable for his absence. Everyone there missed him, not just me.  

At this party, a great aunt whose name I couldn’t remember walked up to me, put her hand on my belly, and asked if I was expecting. I recognized her face, but only because of the context, and couldn’t remember her name, but she was touching me and asking very personal questions! That was the last time I wore that particular outfit, but it got me thinking: people really get extra excited for babies and weddings when there’s just been a death in the family.  

I noticed this, too, in my husband’s family when he lost his grandmother, and not too long after, his nephew was born. Movies like The Lion King refer to this as the circle of life. We, as Catholic Christians, view things a little bit differently, but the metaphor is good enough to explain the natural world and the life cycle of forests and the like. 

What I noticed most, though, was how I set the table at family gatherings. I needed one place setting fewer after each funeral. At each birth, we added a place setting by the time the next big holiday rolled around. Because my husband and I are both subfertile, and together that added up to the cross of infertility, we never did get to add a place at our own table, only removing settings as the older generations passed on.

In a classic Norman Rockwell scene or Hallmark movie script, the generations gather for the holiday with them succeeding each other as time passes, but the numbers around the table stay roughly the same over the years. There’s one or two less as the older generation passes on, but as the children grow up, marry, and have children of their own, the number grows larger again. Places are added for spouses as the children grow taller, and those couples eventually split off to head their own households, and the cycle repeats. But what of those struggling with infertility, those with no new place settings to add, only a dwindling guest list for our family gatherings?

Well, my own table is down to less than a handful of places settings, between moving away and people passing on. My brother lives several states away, and has his own household. My mom lives alone now, and joins him for the holiday feasts. My husband’s elders don’t really travel anymore, and also live several hours away. And my dog isn’t allowed to sit at the table. Sorry buddy, you don’t have thumbs!

Thus, two settings at my table – there was no excitement for new life after the most recent death in my family, and there will be no one to pick up the torch when we set it down. Honestly, it’s rather sad, but it is also one of the less frequently considered consequences of childlessness. 

Where does that leave us, then? Are we doomed to a dry, lonely existence, wallowing in our grief, clinging to the flotsam of faded memories? 

Certainly not!

What everyone is truly yearning for when they’re excited about a new little family member is actually Life, as in, Eternal Life – the Life of the Resurrection. This continuation of the life of the human family actually only partially satisfies that deep yearning we all have. 

We are granted another way to glimpse this eternal reality, and the grace needed to pursue it, in the Sacraments, especially in the Eucharist and the celebration of the Mass. This marvelous, truly miraculous feast sets new places at the table at every Baptism and First Holy Communion. Yes, at funerals we set one less place at the table, but every time we come to the Table of the Lord, we are united with the entirety of the Church – Militant, Suffering, and Triumphant, the Church on Earth, in Purgatory, and in Heaven.

So, if your guest list has grown thin for family gatherings, go join your church family at Mass! You could even ask to have Mass said for your missing loved ones, and ask family and friends to go to Mass that day to celebrate with you. It’s a way to be united, even when separated by time and distance. 

Some other concrete, earthly ways to address the matter of yet another smaller table setting: 

  • Volunteering – perhaps a soup kitchen, hospice, nursing or retirement home could use a hand or a visitor?
  • Serving at Mass as an usher, choir member, or lector
  • Or something awesome a friend did before she had children: hosting what she called the “Orphans Feast.” 

She would invite people she knew who had no family in town, like herself and her husband, to join her for a banquet a few days before the holiday. Doing this on her scale would be a challenge for most people, but just inviting one person or couple to join your house would make a difference for you both. Perhaps there’s someone you know in your neighborhood, office, or who always sits alone at the Mass you attend? Set one more place at your table for them. 

Delsonora lives in Central Ohio and has been married to the best husband a woman could want for over a quarter century. She has a disability and was adopted as an infant. Delsonora loves pets, crafting, and food, and she thinks that coincidence is often a “divine hint”. Catholic from conception, she’s convinced that the faith is why, despite the prevalence of other options, she was able to be born.