Pictures that are worth a thousand words

"What is this?"

She looked up at me and smiled. "Of course, you would notice."

My grandmother was my rock, providing stable ground to stand on. She was the first person in my life to allow me to be myself. We nurtured our relationship by sewing together, and I often feel her presence in spirit when I am making quilts.

We kept each other up to date on the progress of our projects and were always prepared to help one another transition to the next stage, and she needed my help with basting. As we stood there admiring the quilt, I leaned down to look closer to appreciate the work she put into it. I was in awe of the tiny pieces so lovingly sewn together, and I noticed a few of the yellow pieces near the edge had a slightly different texture.

“I ran out of the yellow fabric, so I substituted a scarf that matches perfectly,” she answered. This was the moment I understood my grandmother took my opinion seriously. I feel lucky to have had the time with her that I did. She taught me the principles of crafting I still practice today. This is one of my favorite memories with her.

My grandmother always encouraged authenticity, originality, and freedom to make creative choices of my own, which she accepted at face value. She granted me the freedom I wasn’t getting from anyone else. We shared feedback and had mutual trust that the feedback was honest and not meant to be critical.

In my adulthood, I often reflect on my time with her, and her nurturing was so strong that it may be what saved my life. I had the unfortunate experience of being in an abusive marriage, and the memories of our time together were like a light in the darkness. Following that light gave me the strength to move on from the abusive relationship and led me down a path of recovery. Hindsight is always clear, and it wasn't until I got out of the relationship that I was able to see how her love was the spark igniting my fire.

She passed while I was a teenager, and I continue to learn about her through stories from my family, especially my dad. He loves sharing stories about his mother, and I am always ready to listen. During a recent visit to town, my dad stayed with me, and I put the quilt on his bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the honor of using this quilt,” he commented. “What does the patch say?”

I turned the corner and read my grandmother's handwriting. “My last quilt. Love and blessings to the users,” I answered.

“Yes, I remember now. Every time she told me she was going to work on ours, I asked her if it was her last one, and whenever she answered with a 'no', I asked her to stop working on it and finish the others. I wanted her last quilt,” he said.

It was the last quilt she ever made, and not only does it have the love and care that was standard with all her quilts, but it also has a scarf in it, which is super cool.

After my dad returned home, I thought about all the quilt represents and quickly realized the influence making quilts has had on my life. My grandmother planted the seed, and it just took a little extra time to germinate. I don’t have any regrets. Free from the abusers of the past, I have been allowed to move forward into a whole new world full of light, love, and gratitude for all I have.

The story my dad shared with me inspired me to look through photos of the quilts we completed together, and I never realized how happy and carefree I was while I was with her. She was my safe place in a world full of madness, and I know that when I see her again, she will tell me what she thinks of all the sewing I've done.