Yield

-->

It’s not that he didn’t yield. He was just too fast, and he missed the turn, and the car rolled and flipped, landing in front of the yield sign on Colburn Colvert road, a few miles from home.

He missed, and I miss him. He died a day before his 18^th birthday, and his friends gathered at the yield sign by the crash site, decorating it with flowers, a Happy Birthday banner and festive balloons. Best of all, they signed the yield sign.

My daughter and I coated the sign with a thin layer of varnish, hoping to preserve those signatures, and every year on Nik’s birthday, we’d drive out to the crash sign to resign the sign.

Weather in North Idaho is rough on signatures, roads, and road signs, and one year, an acquaintance came up to me and said, “You need to go get your sign.” At first, I had no idea what she was talking about. Exasperated with me, she said, “Nik’s sign came down during the last storm. I dragged it to the side of the road. You need to go get it.”

I stopped at the hardware store to purchase a few tools, and headed straight to the accident site. The roads, coated in ice and slush, were hazardous, and I was grateful for studded tires. The sign, heavy and bulky, fit snugly in the trunk of my car, and I drove home feeling like I had rescued a lost treasure.

Sandy, my step-dad, made a post for the sign, and we planted it in Nik’s memorial garden. The original signatures have faded, but every year, we resign the Yield in memory of Nik.

Nik’s garden grows around the sign, a display of colors as bright and beautiful as the fireworks on the Fourth of July. The hummingbirds sip of the nectar hanging above his sign, and the red-winged general feasts on the sunflowers in the glass bird feeder (another gift for the garden).

The garden, a magical paradise teaming with glorious life, helps center my sometime turbulent grief that, at times, explodes like a young volcano. The flowers, the fruit, the vegetables grow in spite of my bereavement, reminding me that life does go on, and providing me with the opportunity to stop and smell the lavender while counting my blessings.

Healing Garden

        

        

         Gardening is a wonderful activity that improves quality of life. Gardening helps people engage with the outdoors, which helps people become more aware of their surroundings, and more aware of time and seasonal activities. Best of all, gardening encourages the exposure to fresh air, sunlight, and exercise.

            My garden is a healing garden, a living, breathing memorial for my son, Nikolas. Nik’s garden, a hodgepodge of rocks, flowers, grass, vegetables, berries and shrubs, requires constant maintenance. An amateur gardener, I am blessed with numerous gardening friends that bring bulbs, shrubs, and flowers for my amusement. Even Nik's friends have made beautiful donations to his garden. Everyone provides detailed instructions on when, where, and how I should plant and provide for the plants.

            When I work in the garden, I feel the vibrations of life. I witness the birth of glorious flowers, as well as the swallows that nest in a donated birdhouse every year. Best of all, I often devour my breakfast in the garden, snacking on organically grown, fresh and sweet blueberries, strawberries, raspberries, peas, spinach, carrots, cherry tomatoes, and beans. In addition, I get my daily allowance of sunshine, which helps ward off depression and keeps me connected to the earth.

           Nik loved to eat corn home grown by the farmer down the road. Nik claimed that Leonard's corn was the sweetest corn on the planet. The corn growing in Nik's garden has that special flavor. It tastes sweet and fresh, and watching the stalks grow tall and strong brings happy memories.