Loving Memory

There are two people who make it possible for me to be here, at this creative endeavor, writing this blog and sewing quilts. The first Person is Cutie, my better half, my husband. His heart is so enormously generous that he drags himself out of bed at 5:15am every work day, showers, dresses, makes an espresso (home roasted by him and bursting with deliciousness), and then he shoves off to work. He walks out the door and I stay home with the kids, everyday. He has never asked me to work and in fact, he considers it a better choice for me to stay home and raise our kids in a comfortable environment during their early years. I agree, even if some days feel like an frazzled eternity. What came out of my time here at home was the dream of quilting (as a means of staying sane) and having a little place I could sell my quilts. That dream became reality recently after I posted my quilts on ETSY and my quilting is a source of constant bliss amongst the ups and downs of raising little ones. So, Cutie, Thank you!

The other person that makes it possible for me to be here is my dad. I grew up surrounded by his love of the arts and at every turn of my young life, if I showed any interest in any artistic medium, he indulged me. When I wanted to draw, he bought me paper and markers. When I wanted to sculpt, he bought me clay. He taught me how to throw and glaze pottery when I was 12. He bought me a drum set and lessons when I fell in love with music as a teenager. He believed travel was a way to expand consciousness and he made it so (by scrimping and saving) I could stand beneath Michelangelo's Sistine Ceiling, see the Mona Lisa in real life, gaze upon the ornate gold designs in the Book of Kells, walk through the Louvre, take a train over the Swiss Alps, see windmills and wear wooden shoes, smell the fragrant floral breeze of Hawaiian air, and look up at the Redwoods (an exercise in perspective, no doubt). Now, we weren't rich by any means. But my dad believed that a rich life experience and seeing the world was essential. Above all, my dad's best gift to me was unconditional love, full support, and someone believing in me enough to give me a solid artistic foundation.

My Dad passed away on January 16th. He was 58. I notice, as I grieve him, the most healing and comforting thing I can do for myself is quilt. Quilting reconnects me to my dad's memory and a dream he had for me to be fulfilled as an artist. A dream he would have loved to live himself. When medics were trying to revive him, I ran to my sewing machine, crying, and I sewed a few seams. It was the only thing I knew to do in those few chaotic minutes and I felt like sewing was something my dad would want me do. I could feel his soul, saying, "Go and sew!" Since the 16th, I have cried buckets at my loss of him. I have cried in front of other people, in public, and silently in the middle of the night. I know my dad is free despite my grief. I know his spirit is with me always and he would want me to lean on the foundation he gave me and keep making beautiful quilts. So, Pap, Thank You, too!

Recently I sold two of my quilts through my Etsy shop. I wish I could call my dad and tell him. I wish I could hear the excitement in his voice, I know it would be audible. The dream of making quilts is mine, but now, I quilt for him too.