So Much More Than A Quilt

So Much More Than A Quilt 

Last month I spent two days making a quilt for my son.  It's a promise I finally fulfilled after nearly 14 years, and one I had also made and completed for my girls almost two years ago.  But Matthew's I put aside, thinking maybe it wasn't as important to him since he never asked for it while the girls did, often.

My daughter Meaghan asked me two years ago why I hadn't found the time to make it yet, when I had carved out time to make other things for other people.  I told her it was an emotional barricade I was trying to break through.  These weren't just any quilts made from fabric carefully chosen at the fabric store.  They are quilts made from their father's favorite clothes.  It was easier to keep the clothes in a box, stored in the attic, than it was to bring them out and cut through them.  Each piece of clothing, mostly shirts, stirred my emotions, jogging the memories I shared with their dad -- as well as ones they shared with him.  Each one told a story.  I could almost see him standing in front of me, wearing the well-worn Mt. Washington t-shirt from a hike he took with our son, or the Kokapeli sweatshirt he wore on a hike with Julz, and the faded jeans that were baggy in the seat.  By touching the sleeve, it felt like I was touching his arm, trying to get his attention to tell him something.

But I finally decided it was time to make Matthew's.  I would surprise him for his birthday, which was the next day.

I'd be taking him, his girlfriend and his uncles out for dinner, so I had less than two days to get the job done.  Monday night I assessed what I had and what I needed.  I pulled out the shirts I would use and got everything ready for cutting Tuesday after an early morning meeting.  I was glad to be finally getting this done for him.

As I cut the monogrammed cuff off Jeff's Lands End all cotton white dress shirt, I saw a much younger me taking the iron from him to press his shirt for work.  "You don't have to iron it," he'd always say.  "I can do it."  But I really didn't mind, especially when I wasn't working outside the house because I was staying home with the kids.  The acid-washed blue t-shirt with the Colorado River on it reminds me of how we sat together on the couch as he showed me pictures of his river-raft trip through the Grand Canyon that he took with our brother-in-law Fred.  That trip was his annual time for rejuvenation.  He loved it so much and hoped one day to take Matthew. There were also shirts from our days at the University of Arizona, where we met.  The NCAA Basketball Champs shirt took me back to our first house in Weymouth when, moments after the Wildcats took the 1997 championship, Jeff handed me the phone and said "call your sister to buy us shirts!" He wore his so often it became transparent and full of holes.  These shirts spanned our life together, and a couple of them even came from his youth.  Scouting was an important part of his life, and he loved participating in it with Matthew. Realizing Jeff saved everything, I dug through a box until I found it and included his shirt from Cub Scouts, as well as his Lechmere shirt from his high school job.  Making these quilts was an emotional trip down memory lane.

The end result was a beautiful quilt full of love, meaning, emotion and thought.  It represented a life well-lived, and cherished memories between a father and son, father and daughters.  For me it's the most precious material gift I have ever given my children.  I hope when they wrap themselves in it, they feel a big hug -- the love from their dad that along with mine, runs deeper and more different than any love they'll ever know.