Setting an Extra Plate for Thanksgiving

A friend of mine sets an extra plate at the Thanksgiving table to honor members of her family that have died. At first, I thought this was strange, but I try to stay open to new ideas. In fact, the more I thought about setting a plate for my son, Niko, the more I liked the idea.

The first Thanksgiving without Niko was a silent affair, as the family gathered, unsure what to discuss, afraid to mention his name, worried about spilling salty tears on the stuffing. Every Thanksgiving has become a bit easier, as time has a way of smoothing over the rough edges of grief.

This Thanksgiving, I’ll wear Niko’s Thanksgiving apron (he loved to cook) as I make the pumpkin pies from pumpkins grown in Niko’s memorial garden. I will set an extra plate at the table, in memory of the boy that died on the cusp of manhood. We will tell Niko stories, and raise our glasses high, remembering his laughter, his sharp wit, and his impish smile. 

Autumn Falls

October arrives with a hint of snow to cover the golden leaves that have fallen, graceful, to the ground. You, Nikolas Jesus, my son, flew out of your car, spinning, falling, dying on the ground like a lost leaf. A seat belt would have saved you.

I imagine you, golden wings held high, flying above the clouds, spinning and whirling, performing jumps as if you had a snowboard attached to your feet. Your spirit lives on. I think of you every time I get on stage to perform my music. I think of you whenever someone makes a sharp and witty remark. I thought of you when your sister walked down the aisle to marry her fiancée, Ryan Black, on Friday, October 13.

I thought she would ask me to walk her down the aisle, since her dad, brother, and uncle were dead. But she had other plans. She said, “I always thought Nik would take me down the aisle. So I’m taking the walk alone.”

“No,” I replied. “When you walk down that aisle, you will be covered by three sets of angel wings.”

When she took her walk, the rain stopped, and through the patches of blue sky, I saw three sets of angel wings, covering her in a halo of love.

I miss you, Nik. Every day.