"Pieces of Grandma"

Behind every quilt there is a story. This story has been nearly two years in the making, but I am finally able to share it.

After my grandma died a couple of years ago, I felt the need to create something. I knew I wanted to create a quilt with Grandma's old shirts. But I would walk into her closet many times after she passed away, run my hands over the fabric of her shirts, and would silently curse her for her love of slippery polyester fabric with outlandish color schemes. (For the love, Grandma, couldn't you just wear cotton?!) Many times I pulled them out of the closet, one by one, and then hung them back up and walked away. There was no way I was going to be able to sew on those fabrics, much less make any kind of a beautiful quilt with all those colors thrown together.

I watched as my mom and dad would little by little clean out Grandma's house. One day I noticed in the garbage her bathrobe that she always wore, and I knew it was time to act, or I would lose my chance. I went into the closet one more time, gathered all the shirts in my arms, and took them home with me, where I hung them in my sewing room. My mom, upon seeing all of her mother's shirts gone, suddenly became distressed thinking my dad had thrown them out. And me, wanting to stay on my dad's good side and not let him get blamed for something he did not do, told my mom that I had taken the shirts so that they would not get thrown out.

Grandma's shirts hung in my sewing room for months, and then a year, and then longer. I kept telling myself that I was going to make a quilt with them and give it to my mom for Christmas, and then it was going to be for Mother's Day, then for her birthday, etc... And so the cycle went on and on, and yet the shirts were left untouched.

I don't really remember what actually made me take them down and carry them over to my cutting table, but suddenly there I was one day, trying my best to cut 10" squares from the backs of Grandma's shirts as they slid all over the place; cursing her once again for her choice in fabric and yet shedding tears at the same time because each shirt that I would cut had a different memory attached to it. After cutting the shirts, I began cutting the smaller pieces of fabric for the quilt that had once belonged to my Grandma, that my mom passed down to me. And then I began sewing...

To make a long (and boring) story short, I finally got the quilt top done after many months, but still needed fabric for the back. I was showing the top to Mike when he said, "You should go get a sheet from your grandma's house for the back!" I thought it was a great idea, even though I later learned that he was joking. Unfortunately, my parents had adopted all of Grandma's sheet sets for their own use, so I did what anyone else would have done in this situation: I simply took a top sheet of Grandma's right out of their linen closet without asking. (See my mom's blog for the whole sheet story. She and Dad were beside themselves trying to figure out how they "lost" an entire top sheet.) My dear, sweet sisters, whom I adore, offered to help get it quilted professionally, and before long, it was finally done. I put the last stitch in only moments before everyone came for our Christmas Eve breakfast where we would give it to her.

My sweet husband was kind enough to catch it all on the camera. The photos say more than words at this point.

(This one was when Mom and Dad both realized

where the sheet went.)

We love you, Grandma, and hope that your heavenly gown of white is made of the silkiest polyester there is! We all miss you.

p.s. Thank you, Mom, for not wearing polyester.

"A quilt is pieces of love stitched together."