how to understand the “ sacrificed”？
But I found Lisbon, beneath her smile, grimmer than my dim cities. I have known, you also may have known, some of those particular families who reserved at their tables the seat of a dead relative. They denied the irreparable. But I did not think that that challenge could be of any consolation. The dead must be thought of as dead. Then they acquire in their role of death another kind of presence. But those families hindered their return. They made them absent for ever, late guests for eternity. They swapped their mourning for a vain hope. And those homes seemed to be plunged into an uneasiness far more overwhelming than grief. Pilot Guillaumet, the last friend I lost, was shot down on airmail service. Well I have accepted his death. Guillaumet will change no more. He will never be here again; neither will he be absent. I have sacrificed his place at my table, as a useless illusion, but in his death he remains my real friend.