I thought I was making a rag quilt for my grandson, but realized I was making it for my niece, the oldest daughter of my older sister. My sister and I were very close to growing up.
My sister lays dying in the hospice suite in the hospital where her husband works as a family practitioner and her niece is a nurse. She probably knows virtually every staff member in this little hospital. It is in the small town where she grew up. Her house is about three miles away. Our parent's house is a mile or so away. My sister has been surrounded by lots of old friends and almost all her large, extended family. I am the only one of her siblings who moved away and never moved back - until 10 months ago, to take care of her. It is ironic that we are in this position, her sick, me trying to help her, because my sister is the nurse and she was who I called for informal advice from across the miles, so many times over the years.
I feel helpless during the nightly 12-15 hour shifts as I stay in her hospital room watching over her. She seems to be having the greatest struggles at night and rests more peacefully during the day, I hear. My husband has started staying in the hospital at night with me, to help me keep it together. I have no medical knowledge but I have grit and spirit and a good husband. I am trying to help my sister on this journey. I am not afraid of death. I am not afraid to talk about it, to roll up my sleeves and deal with it. I have a Master's degree in counseling and have taken several classes over the years in grief counseling. But this is up very close and personal. I didn't count on there being so much trauma and drama with personalities and old hurts and semi-buried family secrets. I sorely underestimated the varied reactions, the emotional consequences of all those involved in the dying process. There is nothing peaceful in this process. No dignity. For any of us.
And I can't see clearly.
My sister and I struggle on and I feel guilty for my struggle. It is nothing compared to hers. She has just days now, or hours, maybe. I don't seem to be able to provide her any comfort anymore. When we were at her house, when she was still mobile and not in pain, I could make her laugh. A lot. We were never bored. We were busy with the process of living, balancing that with getting enough rest so she could live longer, not wind up in the ER. We had productive days where we'd either go "exploring" to enjoy nature or sit in her house with her scrap-booking and me sewing or on my laptop. Often we would just sit together over a puzzle, companionably, silently, except for a few grunts of thoughtfulness, groans of exasperation, or woops of satisfaction at having gotten a piece in place. And then, towards the end of the day, we would giggle, tipsy from drinking Chardonnay before dinner, and watching as the sun prepared to set. We had a great view from her back porch and kitchen windows.
When I leave the hospital in the mornings, whenever another family member or friend shows up who will stay with her for a while, I go back to my parents' house where my husband and I are now staying since we had to put our home, an RV, into my brother's barn for the Iowa winter. I don't drop into bed in exhaustion as I keep thinking I will sooner or later. It is as if I will never sleep again. I am wired. My eyes are wide open. I don't know how long this will last, my not sleeping, my sister still struggling to live, but I can't just sit around and do nothing.
I started sewing. With sewing, I can work with my hands and my eyes can actually see what I'm doing and my brain can take breaks from the tight knot of thoughts. I am not helpless in front of this sewing machine. It has enables me to help my sister's children, if just a little bit. That is how this quilt became my niece's.
This quilt is special for a lot of reasons. It is full of symbolism. It is magical. It is love and hope of peace beyond grief.
This quilt is made of repurposed denim. The denim is from old jeans, mostly. The jeans were mine, my husband's, my daughter's, my folks', and some are from one of my other sisters, some from her husband. And maybe other peoples too, I can't remember. I've been collecting (saving) these old jeans for up to 30 years. When we sold our house of 4000 square feet and reduced down to about 200 square feet of RV space, I kept these old jeans, knowing they had a purpose but not knowing exactly how their evolution would materialize.
I had worked full time since I graduated from college, up until March last year. I'd hoped to squeeze in another few of months of work after we sold our house, in order to rack up some non-mortgage salary and fulfill some final work commitments. But family in Iowa were at a crisis point so I ended up quitting my job with two days notice and drove straight through from Maryland. In those years I worked, whenever I throw another pair of jeans onto the saved stack, I envisioned sometime doing something fun with the jeans. I have used some of them prior to this quilt, making other things, and I will show those in later blogs. But for now, this quilt is what inspired this blog and made me want to start documenting my journey with fabric in my down-sized, simplistic, Bohemian world. There is something so appealing to me to work with my hands, to see and touch the fabric, the variety of colors and textures, to watch the creation of whatever project I'm working on, or to see the project take on a life of it's own, veering off the original path, like this quilt.
And here is what I've been obsessed with when not at my sister's side.
As I said, when I started making this quilt, I was doing it for my grandson and to pass the wide awake hours. But before that, I'd wanted to get started sewing quilts for my sister's children, using her clothes, making what they call memory quilts or memorial quilts. "Memory" sounds better than "memorial". I wanted to get started partly because of my wired energy but also partly because I live in the RV and don't have a lot of room. When I broached the idea with my nieces, they were receptive about the quits, preferring I do them instead of the basement church ladies. But they weren't quite ready to remove their mom's clothing and didn't want me to do it either. I was willing to go into my sister's house, to her closet, and go through all her clothes, minus what they want to bury her in, just to save them that heartbreak. If you think it is morbid that I want to get started before she is even dead, I can only say that I feel helpless to help my sister, I know she is dying, and I want to do something to help those being left behind, to include myself. I have always been a do-it-now-gal. Patience has never been my pal. But sometimes, the steps we think are helpful in coming to terms with what is happening, aren't in sync with anyone else. My sister's kids need more time. They don't want to be rushed. They aren't emotionally ready. I don't know what they are thinking for sure. They didn't explain and I didn't press. Maybe they want to save a few articles of clothing intact. Maybe they need to discuss this more amongst each other. And really, why would they want to step into a future without their mom earlier than they have to?
In so many ways, this journey I have been on with my sister is such an intimate undertaking and I am trusted with so much, but in so many ways, I am shut out, cut off, on my own.
I am rambunctious and sometimes overbearing. One minute I am right there and needed, the next, I am on the outside and wondering if I just overstepped.
Regardless, I have all this wired energy. I have no off switch. My head is ready to explode with emotions. I am angry. I am sad. I am curious, and I am dreading.
And through all that, this is what I created:
The quilt has dove gray fleece as the backing; the underside that will touch my niece's skin. I made it big enough to be shared with her husband. It is an inclusive quilt, soft to the touch. Warm.
The denim colors are light blues, steel blues and and deep hues, representing the majesty and vastness of the skies above us and the life force of the earth's waters.
The cut squares of denim are now together into something new. Having joined forces, these study fabrics make one quilt and it is incredibly strong and heavy. Each denim square has an "X" sewn across it that joins it front to back with a same-size dove gray fleece square, then these are joined in rows and the rows are joined. This reinforced strength will carry my niece forward in her life.
The frays of the open denim edges, facing up for all to see, represent the worn and torn experiences of my niece's life so far; the hurts and fears and disappointments, the unfinished business, the imperfections of relationships that make us who we are. Despite the frays, it is whole. It will not come apart. I want my niece to refuse old hurts from this point forward, to be strengthened and renewed. Others past or present will not rule her life. That is my wish for her and my gift to her. She will see the "X's" on the fabric and mentally cross out the hurts one by one. She will reframe them as reinforcements to a stronger whole, scarred maybe, weathered now, but building blocks to who she is becoming; a person of great character and integrity.
The thin green satin line around the outside edges of the denim is for the beautiful satin, emerald green dress that my niece wore to wed one of the most beautiful people that walks this planet. Together they love and will go forth with this beautiful life. That green satin trim also acts as a border, a boundary, protecting them as a couple, separating them from those that might seek to interfere or judge. Green is also the color of life, of nature. Green is new growth. My niece and her spouse are new life, new growth, new ways of thinking. All life is beautiful. All love is precious.
Each of the four corners has a large pocket. They are for keeping important things, important memories. There are also hidden pockets in this quit. Those are for privacy...and for the fun of discovery. I did not reveal them.
The outside border of the quilt is made up of different fabrics that I have bought over the past couple of years, intending to use for quilts, or to use as trim on other denim projects I have been working on, or purchased simply because I liked them. Some of the fabrics, especially the emerald and bright greens, I bought with my niece in mind, again thinking of her wedding dress and her vibrant personality. So the border, also done in rag quilt style, represents people in the world, the humanity, the communities she lived in growing up and now. Some of the fabrics are pedantic, boring, like some personalities she surely knows, some are simple but nice, run-of-the-mill, not rocking-the-boat types of patterns and colors, like many personalities in our lives, the kind of people who don't take risks and don't like those who do, the people who can't or won't think outside the box. But the bright greens, the vibrancy, the excitement of some of the colors and patterns represent my niece and her husband; their friends, the people they surround themselves with by choice and not by birth. They take risks, they are breaking new ground everyday.
They know that everyday we have decisions to make on how to live our lives. They aren't afraid to make them. They can even change their minds as they please. It is up to them.
I wish them the best and stand by if they need me.
