After the opening invocation and pledge, every floor session in Montana’s legislature begins with various members introducing home town folks gathered in the gallery above the chamber. In the six years I have served, almost no citizens of my district have visited the capitol during the session. I jokingly told my seatmate, if I didn’t see a constituent pretty soon, I was going to start introducing all my imaginary friends. Friday, March 18th, we heard three moving straight-from-the-heart introductions, but it was the silent fourth one which sticks with me. I’ll explain.

The separation of legislators from their loved ones pales in comparison to the sacrifice made by our armed forces deployed overseas. Our engagement is but four months, theirs is measured in years. Nonetheless, it still hurts.

Representative Gordon Hendrick rose first to introduce Vicky, whom with he would celebrate his 40th anniversary on Sunday. His voice cracked with emotion as he stared up at his beloved wife seated in the gallery. Gordon’s words started a cascade of spouse introductions.

Representative Bob Wagner stood next; his wedding anniversary was this week as well. His wife, Christy, was not present during this introduction but he wanted proof on the record and in the journal, he did properly ask his high school sweetheart to marry him. This is a contentious issue still never settled after 37 years and four kids. (Apparently Bob, just like me, married his high school girlfriend while she was still in her early twenties and didn’t realize she was marrying down. Last June I had my trophy wife blasting 120 years of raccoon poop out of the barn loft with a power washer and after 31 years of marriage, she is still delusional enough to think this is as good as it gets.)

Glendive’s Representative Matt Rosendale was the third to rise. Unlike me being three hours from home, Matt’s nine hour drive forces him to spend his weekends in Helena alone. This weekend, however, was different as up in the gallery sat Jean, his wife of 27 years. Matt is tough. He is unwavering when facing hostile political fire, but this battle was different. He pointed up in the gallery and spoke brokenly. When he reached the part about the mother of his three children, he dropped his face into his hands to hold back the tears. Overcome with emotion and with his sentence forever unfinished, he sat down.

The fourth introduction, the silent one, came from vacant seat 31 on the House floor. As the bustle of the formal session began, I sat and stared at the empty chair. This is the desk of Anaconda freshman legislator Kathy Swanson. Kathy has found the separation from her husband, Butch, to be harder than she had anticipated. To ease the pain of being apart, Kathy and Butch religiously phone each morning at six and then Butch begins his day teaching high school and Kathy heads to the capitol. March 3rd their daily routine changed forever.

Kathy called repeatedly that Thursday morning and Butch never answered. Getting more anxious with each unanswered ring, she called their next door neighbors and asked them to check on Butch. They did. Their knock went unanswered as well, so they opened the door and found Butch lying on the floor. For reasons unknown, God had called Butch home.

Kathy was devastated by her loss and her seat has been empty ever since. We hear word she might return next week and if she does she is stronger than me. Knowing that your world back home has been turned upside down, I don’t know where you find the strength to re-enter the arena as a citizen legislator. Suddenly facing the world alone, the political battle would seem senseless to me.

Keep Kathy’s tragedy in mind and ponder this: As hard as it is to say goodbye to the person with whom you have built your life, imagine never having the chance to do so. This is the perfect opportunity to reach over and gently cradle the hand of the one who touches a special place in your heart. Kiss their forehead and thank God for every single moment you have shared. Do it now—you may never get another chance.