a project for Remembering

If you have lost someone you loved, or when you do as we all must do, you will know what I mean by savoring.  You savor before they die or while and after the things you can do for that person, each a little offering of love.  The last time I changed her diaper I stroked her silky, still legs.  Oh, more!  Each snap on her sleeper after we pressed her footprints, all mine.  The way her father held her jealously during those final hours.  I understood.

for Remembering Eleni

After Eleni passed I treasured each task left to me as her mother, most especially any task in her nursery.  On a quiet Saturday I shut myself in her room slowly unpacking her dresser, choosing these clothes to save forever and others to pass along to some other child.  Soon I had a pile of clothes too stained to keep, but too precious to throw away.  They are ones that remind me of particular times.  They are each a memory.

for Remembering Eleni

I am glad that a project came to me quickly then.  I composed the clothes in neat rows and captured some needed colors from the other piles to fill the gaps.  I'd been wanting a new pillow cover for a living room throw pillow anyways.  What a nice way to keep some memories of her nearby.

for Remembering Eleni

I'll be patterning this pillow project after my "Joy" pillow from years past.  I'll applique a rectangle of each piece of clothing on a plain background in a 4 x 5 grid layout.  Some of the rectangles will become reverse applique letters; some will remain whole.

for Remembering Eleni

These knits won't fray when raw edge appliqued like quilting cottons do.  I'm also cutting with my pinked rotary blade, for a decorative and more durable edge.  My husband and I are setting off this weekend for a 15th anniversary getaway.  I want to prep this all today so I can take it along, a compact hand sewing project.  Ah, yes, the makings of a good trip!

 for Remembering Eleni

But I find it slow going, cutting up these clothes.  I stare at the doggie pajamas I bought midway through our pregnancy, when all was perfectly well.  How could that be?  The green polka dot shirt she wore only once - the last time I took her home from the hospital - takes me back to that moment of shy hope coupled with foreboding.  Of course all the stories come back, as they should.

This is a project for remembering.