We have empty seats at our Thanksgiving spread. This year, someone else will slice open the boiled eggs and mix the yolks with paprika and relish before presenting them as deviled eggs, the way my grandmother did every Turkey Day for as long as I can remember. Someone else has been making Aunt Gail’s famous corn casserole, a family recipe with enough cream to blow a diet, since she bravely fought lymphoma and passed away three years ago. The food is a symbol, but the missing person’s laugh, long-winded story, or welcome quiet is irreplaceable. Full Article…