Blog 35: Sewing Some Love

I went to the store with my daughter the other day.  She was looking at fabrics to purchase for a project she was making.  I couldn’t help but think of my mom.  Going to a fabric store, for my mom, was like being in a candy shop.  My mom spent countless hours in fabric stores, looking at patterns and pretty fabrics to make her grandkids clothes when they were little.   She loved to sew, and other than painting, it was one of her favorite things to do.

I went through a sewing phase myself, a common interest I had with my mom.  But I didn’t have the passion for it like she did.  Looking at the calico prints brought back memories of the quilts I sewed for my kids, learning how to do it from my mom.  A quilt was easy, Barbie doll clothes, on the other hand, were hard.  But not for my mom.  

Next to a row of colorful, floral fabrics I spotted a cute little sundress hanging on a hook, and I was drawn to it.  I picked it up and inspected the details of the dress and felt deep emotions welling up inside.   My mom could have made that dress.  I showed my daughter and said, “This reminds me of what nana used to make for you.”   She looked at me holding the dress and she smiled in agreement.  It had a row of ruffles on the bottom, something my mom would have loved doing.  She loved little details like that.  It brought me back in time, many years ago.  I would go over to Mom’s house and she’d pull out a bag of fabrics and patterns she had just bought.   Mom would get so excited about it and couldn’t wait to start the project.  She could whip out an outfit in no time, sometimes starting in the evening, and not going to bed until it was finished.  To me, it seemed like so much work. To her, it was love.  

My mom made clothes for the grandkids but I don’t recall ever seeing anything she made for herself.  She was always thinking of someone else, serving and caring so unselfishly for her family.  I saved all of the clothes she made my kids, and I gave my daughter's dresses to her.  She has some of them hanging in her daughters’ closet for her kids to wear on special occasions.  Little did I know at the time, that my mom’s gifts to my kids would also be gifts to my grandchildren, and the way we save things, I’m sure my great grandchildren will be wearing those clothes in years to come. 

I miss my mom so much.  I wish she could be well again so she could do the things she always loved to do, and have meaning to her life again.  What is the meaning of her life now?  To sit in a nursing home and forget who, why, what and how?  I just don't get it.  She deserves better than that.