Dawn's Notes
The Quilt - October 2022
by Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW
The quilt was made of scraps from shirts that belonged to my husband before he died. Soon after his death, I carefully took his shirts from hangers and tucked them safely away. His clothes hanging in the closet were daily reminders of his absence. I planned to someday have the shirts sewn into quilts for our children and grandchildren, but I had no idea how long it would take to accomplish my goal. First, I arranged for a friend to make the quilts, and she and I agreed on a pattern. But her health took a downturn, and she was unable to make the quilts.
When another friend changed her mind about making the quilts, I put the project on hold for several years. Then my dear friend Jane came up with an idea—she would enlist the help of a quilters’ group to help make my quilt dream come true. I sorted the shirts by colors—reds, blues, browns, and greys. Then I met with the quilters to make the shirts into large pieces. Each quilter agreed to design and sew a quilt and keep track of expenses. By early spring, it was time for each quilter to display her accomplishment at a quilters’ meeting, and each lady proudly showed her quilt.
One quilt was made of fabric pieces that had been cut into circles. It was tastefully put together and beautiful! Another quilt had a large red heart sewn in the middle of the quilt—it was stunning! Every quilt was unique—each one a treasure! But there was one quilt that stood out! It was the smallest—more like a wall hanging. My friend Jane had made it, and I wondered if she had used her remaining scraps because she had also made another larger quilt. There was something very special about that smallest quilt that touched my heart. It was made of many small triangles and a few larger triangles. When Jane showed her quilt, she turned it in three different directions. Each time the quilt took on a new perspective, a different look. When Jane held it a north-south direction, the triangles looked like small baskets. When she turned the quilt one revolution, the triangles looked like a school of small fish swimming eastward. Last, if the triangles pointed upward, the quilt resembled many small mountain peaks that formed a large mountain range that went on and on.
There were messages in the quilt just for me. The small baskets were filled with 44 years of wonderful memories, and the little fish were symbolic of many friends and family members who stayed beside me after my husband’s death. But most importantly, the mountain range reminded me of the uphill struggles my husband and I had after he was diagnosed with kidney cancer. Looking back, he and I had taken on our mountain range together, one mountain at a time. Three weeks after my husband’s diagnosis, he had surgery to remove a large mass. One year after his surgery, a C-T scan showed the cancer had reoccurred; this time it was inoperable. So we lived life as fully as possible, and two more grandchildren were born during the time he had left. During the last year of his life, he became bedfast, but we were able to care for him at home.
During our mountain-climbing journey, we climbed, hand in hand. And with God’s help and the love and support of family and friends, we made it through the valleys and up the next hills. As we climbed, we found joy in small, simple pleasures and treasured the time we had. When my husband climbed his final mountain, he was surrounded by those who loved him dearly. He had made it to the Heaven side, but my mountain climbing days were not over. I had to slowly keep on moving, one day at a time, as I grieved.
Looking back, the quilt seemed to tell my mountain-climbing story of grief with its mountain peaks and valleys. Just like the quilt, even as I grieved, there were beautiful, unique parts to my life too—time with friends and family and gifts from nature! If you have experienced a loss, you already know how steep the climb can be! So do what you need to do to get over your next mountain, one day at a time, one step at a time. Someday you will look back with a new perspective. But for now, just keep on climbing!
Call about the next "Living Life after Loss" Group at:
Meadowlark Hospice
709 Liberty, Clay Center, Kansas
(785) 632-2225
Dawn Phelps, RN/LMSW, Group Facilitator