My grandmother was an avid sewer and quilter. She made over a hundred quilts in her lifetime. The quilts she gave to me over the years were all pieced and hand stitched by her with great care and affection.

They are the most precious items I own. Each of them are works of art. She would spend months piecing the tiny fabric scraps into a pattern and then quilt together the pieced fabric, batting, and fabric backing. The layers were stitched together in neat rows or patterns one tiny stitch at a time, all by hand. It was a labor of love. Each quilt she made was an expression of her creativity and personality, and like her all of them are bold and colorful. There are snippets of clothing, furniture upholstery, pieces of her nurse’s uniform, or just some outrageous fabric that she loved. Each one tells a story of the life our family shared with her.

She always embraced the mistakes she made in the quilts and never apologized for the imperfections. As with life that was just part of it.

The special thing about quilts is that the process of quilting, i.e stitching the layers together, makes the pieced fabric loftier and warmer than it would be without it. I have slept under her quilts almost my entire life, and now my children sleep under them, covered in her enduring warmth and love.

I miss her. I miss her laughter and smile. I miss the way she would call me sweet Emma B. I miss her silly singing and funny dancing. I miss enjoying cocktails and old movies with her. I miss her worrying about me. I miss her delicious food and quirky home. I miss holding her hand.

My family came together this past weekend to celebrate and remember the life of my grandmother. Before the memorial, I knew I needed to honor her one more way. She had always encouraged me in my pursuit of sewing, and it is because of her that I learned to appreciate the art and beauty of textiles. Textiles have long been expressions of love in many cultures and it is no different with our family.

I wanted to make something special to honor her and to wear to her service. So, I made a couture skirt – quilted of course. Although I can no longer be with her physically, sewing allows me to still connect with her and remember the love she gave to us all.

When I finished the skirt there were some things I would have liked to have done better, but I’ve learned from her that sometimes the flaws are part of the beauty, and what’s important is what’s on the inside. May I be as confident, loving and kind in my life as she was in hers.