The Last Quilt

I knew like the chick knew to start pecking from the inside of the shell to break free. I knew I would love sewing, and I had no idea how far the love affair would go.

I take custom orders for various types of quilts and quilted items, and people, including my clients, often ask me when and how I got started with quilting. I will tell you the same thing I tell them, or at least this is how I remember it. When our souls come together once more, I will confirm the story with my grandmother.

My grandmother Connie was a longtime seamstress with decades of garment-making experience under her gusseted, pleated, or fitted with an invisible zipper waistband. She made so many amazing pieces that I got into the habit of asking her whether she made or purchased the clothing she was wearing when we visited. She was that good.

During several visits, I witnessed the creation process: cutting out the pattern pieces, then I would see the pieces laid out on the fabric, then the preparation of the pattern for assembly, various stages of the pattern coming together, and the finished garment on a hanger in her sewing room. Seeing this process over and over stoked my curiosity, and I eventually grew the courage to ask her if she would teach me.

She was an experienced primary school teacher, and she taught the children of hers who were interested in sewing, so the desire was strong. We started by making a blouse. I picked out the pattern, selected the fabric, and brought it to her. Not only was it a blouse, but it was a blouse that had silky and sheer fabrics, every tween girl's dream, and some of the most difficult fabrics to sew. Looking back on it now, I see how much patience you would need in order to teach a first-time sewist using the pattern and fabrics I picked out. What an amazing woman she was.

We finished the blouse, and I wore it well after it went out of style. I began sewing projects one after another, building my craftsmanship and patience, while also discovering where my skill was the strongest. Once exposed to the world of sewing, I began to explore other areas, and quilting landed right in the middle of my radar. I was 11 when we made my blouse, and one morning when I was 12 I got up and decided to make a quilt. It was well done for someone who had never made a quilt or had any formal training on how to make one. I used a simple geometric pattern, following the instructions in the book, and by the time the sun went down, I had assembled a lap-sized quilt top. The process taught me that quilt assembly was a natural skill for me.

I showed my grandmother my creation, and she was thrilled. The highlight was the color selection; the fabrics I used became the focus and somehow made all the mismatched seams and crooked stitching invisible. I uncovered my hidden strength; I have a great eye for color. My first quilt was the beginning of a wonderful adventure. These defining moments are rarely recognized when they happen, only to later become great memories when looking back. And was it ever.

My grandmother fully embraced quilting in a way I never expected. She began taking classes, attending quilting shows, watching quilting episodes on television, and purchasing all kinds of fun quilting gadgets. I enjoyed seeing her creations throughout high school and continued making quilt tops of my own. We saw one another often and we would make a point of sharing our creations.

For my grandmother's 70th birthday, her 8 children planned a surprise party for her. To my surprise, the suggested gift was 1 yard of cotton quilting fabric chosen by the guest. This resulted in more than 200 yards of fabric, each signed with the gifter's name. And what did my grandmother then decide to do? She went on to make a quilt for each of her 8 children.

When I got to her house one afternoon, she was ready to show me the quilt that would go to my family. She laid it out for me to see, and I was thrilled at its beauty. I stood next to it and took in all its glory, leaning closer to examine the fine details of her hard work.

Wait, those two yellows have different textures. "What is this?" I asked, pointing at the yellow diamonds.

She looked up at me and smiled. "Of course, you would notice," she said, laughing kindly and patiently. “I ran out of the yellow fabric, so I substituted a scarf that matches perfectly,” she answered. I smiled back at her and told her how much I loved the quilt.

This was the moment I understood my grandmother took my opinion seriously. I feel lucky to have had the time with her that I did. She taught me the principles of crafting I still practice today. This is one of my favorite memories with her. My grandmother was my rock. We nurtured our relationship by sewing together, and I often feel her presence in spirit when I am making quilts.

She passed while I was a teenager, and I continue to learn about her through stories from my family, especially my dad. He loves sharing stories about his mother, and I am always ready to listen. During a recent visit to town, my dad stayed with me, and I put the quilt on his bed.

“I don’t think I’ve ever had the honor of using this quilt,” he commented. “What does the patch say?”

I turned the corner and read my grandmother's handwriting. “My last quilt. Love and blessings to the users,” I read aloud.

“Yes, I remember now. Every time she told me she was going to work on ours, I asked her if it was her last one, and whenever she answered with a 'no', I asked her to stop working on it and finish the others. I wanted her last quilt,” he said.

It was the last quilt she ever made, and it not only shows the love and care that was standard with all her quilts, but it also has a scarf in it, which is super cool. After my dad returned home, I thought about what the quilt represents and quickly realized the influence making quilts has had on my life.

The story my dad shared with me inspired me to look through photos of the quilts we completed together, and I never realized how happy and carefree I was while I was with her. She was my safe place in a world full of madness, and I know that when I see her again, she will tell me what she thinks of all the sewing I've done.