Advice to the grieving can be at once risible and wise. Take for example the advice to get a hobby.
Get a hobby?
Can you imagine shopping for supplies, trying to learn techniques you’ve never done before, sorting out where to work on your project and where to put all those supplies in your house when you’re not working on it — all while in the throes of grief?
Which is to say, I feel gratitude that I already having a hobby (though I never call my quilting that).
To have supplies, lots of supplies, to have established places where those supplies live, to have techniques I’ve practiced for decades — these are truly things to be grateful for. Quilting. It goes on. I go on.
But here’s an example of how even a semi-distracting hobby never takes you far from the person you lost.
This morning, I decided this beast of an Epstein Quilt needed basting down. I’m sick of my thread getting caught on all the pins. I’m sick of my fabric squares shifting around. I should’ve done this last week but here I am.
In the process of basting the layers, I stitched the quilt to my pajama bottoms. It happens.
Here’s the thing. The last time I did this, I was in Longmont and Danny was sitting across from me. I lifted the little house quilt up from my lap to reveal a V-shape of thread where the quilt was attached to my pants and he smiled.
This morning when I lifted up this quilt to find myself threaded to my pj bottoms, it occurred to me: the last time I did this, it made Danny smile.
And then: that was probably the last time I saw him smile.
So much for the so-called distractions of a hobby.
Dee~ well, damn. This is one tough road. I’m here reading and considering with you. xo
Thank you Nancy. I mean it. Thank you.
Maybe Danny isn’t here but then he seems to be… everywhere.
Yes. So true.
Yes, I’m always insulted.
He’s even here. ❤️
And here! I can’t begin to count how many times in the past days his smiling face has come to mind and “Colorado” has been popping up everywhere!
That’s just wild.
Yes.
Really?! I’d love to hear how and where.
For me it is like what I call “storming”. A thought or idea or memory expands when I hold it in my mind. It touches everything I do.
And I don’t like the word hobby.
Yeah it’s demeaning somehow and also misses the centrality of quilting’s role in my life.
for sure. you are an artist though and through.
But it brought back a happy memory 💙
Sort of?
Well, I smiled too. With him.
Thank you for that.
I probably should add that while stitching cloth to oneself happens, it doesn’t usually happen twice in one month!
Well it doesn’t strike me at all as unusual that this happened twice in one month. I’ve always believed, felt, known, that our loved ones “pop” in. You made Danny smile and so he brought you the memory again, of this moment in time. I’ve had similar moments with all of my deceased family but especially with my Dad and I expect that in time, my dear Rich will pop in now and then as well.
Today when I was visiting him, the nurse, Dr., and social worker, had all stepped out so I climbed into the bed, hugged Rich and kissed him only to look up and find all of them standing by the door.. Was I embarrassed ? Absolutely not until the Dr. smiled and said, “We will just step out and leave you two lovebirds alone”! Actually that is a moment that I would love to have come back to me in the future.
You lovebirds!
Danny in the stitched pajama had not occurred to me. I love that idea.
he’s even been here, in the garden where I’ve been spending most of my time these days…..watching me at work on my knees! pulling weeds, sowing seeds
Saskia
So lovely to read.
What beautiful and heart filled comments on your sewing story, Dee, and Danny’s smile. The last time you saw him smile? Probably was, since that’s what you are remembering. I can’t help but ask Danny why why why, and yet I respect the depth of his sorrow, not knowing if “sorrow” is even the best way to describe his pain. Being with what his memory brings you now, and the next now, and the one beyond and on and on is what seems right and the only thing you can do really. We just don’t often know the whys. Such tenderness.
The comments have been amazing, including this one. Not knowing the whys (or rather only knowing my interpretation of his whys) is difficult for sure.
And the finality of his decision.
Danny has been, and is, and will be present for so many of us. I think of him so often, always that beautiful smile. I want to tell him to wait, give it time, hang on, this is just part of the story and it doesn’t have to end here. In the end it was his life and his decision. How to accept that choice when it doesn’t seem acceptable for those who grieve? Endless questions and endless love.
It has taken me totally by surprise to hear how many of you are sitting with and gardening with and imagining Danny. It makes me happy. It is so unexpected.
Danny lives in all of us, through your words and pictures … perhaps this ether-real place where we all gather is a metaphor for untouchable presence … Liz A
I imagine everything connects with Danny right now, and that there’s joy and sorrow in that. My heart aches for you both.