From the Songbond library

Still Setting Two Plates

SongbondMemorial

0:00–:––

A remembrance gift for someone grieving their wife

Two morning cups, her radio station and tomatoes she planted make this a direct portrait of a husband missing his wife.

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The words

Lyrics

Coffee maker's set for two Thirty years Hands don't unlearn I poured your cup before mine again this morning Stood there while it went cold by the window where you'd sit The radio's still on your station — I can't bring myself to turn it Some woman sang your favorite, and I had to leave the room They say it's just a habit Darlin', it was never just a habit I'm still setting two plates at the table we picked out Still reaching for your hand at the scary parts of movies Thirty years of loving you don't stop on a Tuesday So I set two plates, darlin' And I tell you how my day went Your garden's coming up again — it didn't ask permission Tomatoes you put in last fall, stubborn just like you Your perfume's nearly gone now from the scarf on the bedpost I sleep on my half. Your half's still spoken for. They say it's just a habit Darlin', it was never just a habit I'm still setting two plates at the table we picked out Still reaching for your hand at the scary parts of movies Thirty years of loving you don't stop on a Tuesday So I set two plates, darlin' And I tell you how my day went At first the second plate was only muscle memory Now I lay it down on purpose Every fork is me saying: you were here. You're still here. The day I set one plate — That's the day I quit telling you the truth I'm still setting two plates at the table we picked out Still reaching for your hand at the scary parts of movies Thirty years of loving you don't stop on a Tuesday So I set two plates, darlin' And I tell you how my day went Goodnight, darlin' Same time tomorrow Both plates

Behind the song

The story

The coffee maker's still set for two, and her cup gets poured before his every morning — thirty years and the hands don't unlearn. The radio stays on her station, the one he can't bring himself to change. Out back, the tomatoes she planted last fall come up without asking permission, stubborn just like she was. Her half of the bed is still spoken for. At first the second plate was only muscle memory. Now he lays it down on purpose, every fork a way of saying she was here, she's still here. For the husband who figures the day he sets one plate is the day he quits telling her the truth — and he isn't planning on it.

The story behind this Songbond listening example.

From this song to your gift

Honor the everyday place she still holds

Two morning cups, her radio station and tomatoes she planted make this a direct portrait of a husband missing his wife. A thoughtful tribute can acknowledge continuing routines without telling him when to change them or move on.

A widower, relative or close friend can use this approach when the recipient wants his wife’s daily presence remembered.

How to give it

Offer the recording privately and let him choose when and whether to share it with other people.

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Giving a personal song

Should a remembrance gift encourage someone to move on?

This story does not do that. Ask what they would find welcome, name the person and the relationship, and avoid prescribing how they should handle keepsakes or grief.

Is this the recording I receive when I order a custom gift?

“Still Setting Two Plates” is a public listening example. A custom-song request uses the story you share; check the current creation page for what is included and how changes work.

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