Through no fault of the quilter’s, looking at her beautiful work made that unending but bearable ache turn sharply back into pain. It hurts like hell to love someone dead.
Mama would have been able to appreciate these quilts more fully than I. She was a quilter (lt not tt!). When she first gave them to us, on the occasion of each boy’s birth, I loved the quilts she made for Lysle and Micah.
Now that she is gone, love is no longer a sufficient word for what I feel about them. Profound gratitude. Grateful that she left them with us. That the boys will have these blankets into which she sewed her love for them. She is in every stitch, every patch, every color of those quilts.
Experiencing the preciousness of the things she made for us has made me want to make more. I’m starting small. Sewing is still a stretch for me because I’m challenged at the precision end. Maybe one day I’ll get her sewing machine from Germany and it will teach me…