Quilts take a lot of time. When I started my current project, I woke up every day with new ideas and fresh enthusiasm. I really believed in the importance of what I wanted to create, and I had my husband, Claudio, to cheer me on.<\/p>\n
But in the months since, things had gotten hard. I injured my shoulder and my recovery was slow. In the middle of it all I lost Claudio to prostate cancer. Now I was discouraged, lonely, and without Claudio’s support.<\/p>\n
Facing down the half-finished quilt in my sewing room one morning soon after his death, I could hardly muster the energy to make a single stitch.<\/p>\n
The quilt was meant to be a way to keep my old nursing class together. We’d graduated from Mercy College of Ohio some 40 plus years before and quickly dispersed all over the country.<\/p>\n
After our last anniversary banquet, I tried to find ways for everyone to stay in touch, but nothing ever seemed to work out.<\/p>\n
“You need to find a connection when you’re apart,” Claudio said after another futile attempt at planning a mini-reunion. “Something you can share at a distance–like in that movie The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants.<\/em>”<\/p>\n My husband made me laugh out loud. That movie was our guilty pleasure. Four friends manage to stay close by passing around a pair of pants that magically fit each one of them and gave moral support to the one who wore them in the absence of the other three.<\/p>\n Mailing pants wouldn’t work for my nursing classmates, but…<\/p>\n “What about a quilt?” I said. “We could all collaborate in putting it together, and once it’s finished mail it around to whoever is in need of some comfort.”<\/p>\n Claudio clapped his hands. “Brilliant!” he said.<\/p>\n I got in touch with as many of my old classmates as I could. Everyone who wanted to join the project was sent a square of fabric. They could sign it or write a personal message. Once I got the squares back, I’d assemble them into the finished piece.<\/p>\n I rubbed my sore shoulder and ran my hand over the unfinished quilt. Even after multiple surgeries, movement in my left arm was limited.<\/p>\n I missed Claudio and his comforting words. I wanted to have this quilt finished by now, <\/em>I told him up in heaven as I looked at the pattern taped to the sewing-room wall.<\/p>\n There was still so much to do. Our class’s forty-fifth anniversary banquet was coming up and my heart wasn’t in this project anymore. With Claudio’s encouragement I’d kept at it despite my bum shoulder. But Claudio was gone now.<\/p>\n Working on the quilt was impossible with my aches and pains. Why was I even trying? I covered up my sewing machine and left the quilt as it was.<\/p>\n