I'm participating in the Blogging from A-Z Challenge again this year. Today's post is brought to you by the letter Q.
When I was 9 years old, my Grandma Wilson found herself at the end of a losing battle with cancer. With that in mind, she set about to make her last Christmas extra special. For months leading up to the holidays, in spite of her failing health and what had to be extreme pain, she worked her fingers to the bone making beautiful quilts for each of her 3 sons, as well as my brother and me. All 5 quilts were created with their intended recipient in mind; from colors to designs on the fabric, no two quilts were even slightly similar.
From time to time, I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of these amazing gifts as they were being made. The squares were all organized and ready to be added, some of them cut from her very own clothes. I vaguely remember being allowed to hand her some squares as a way of helping, but she was very careful not to let me see the quilt she was making for me.
When Christmas day rolled around, our family gathered as we did every year before. The gift I anticipated the most was my quilt. It was the first one I had ever received and after seeing peeks of the others, I knew it would be something special. It was. The underside was made from a pink fabric with roses all over it. The squares were a combination of fabrics in shades of pink, red, and purple. In the corners of each square peeked red strands of yarn that tickled my face when I excitedly hugged this beautiful creation. Even as young as 9, I could feel the emotion she put into my quilt. Over 16 years later, I can just imagine the process she went through choosing the colors that reminded her of me. That kind of attention, love, and thoughtfulness is priceless.
Over the years my quilt has become a bit worn. There is a hole where my brother's dog chewed the fabric in the throes of boredom. The edges are fraying and fading from countless washes. Regardless of the wear and tear, it has remained intact; no loose seams or missing squares. It has adorned my bed in the best of times and the worst of times. It has even found it's way onto my oldest daughter's bed on more than one occasion. Though my Grandma has been gone twice as long as she was physically a part of my life, that colorful quilt keeps her memory alive and ensures a part of her will be with me for as long as I'm in the world.