
For several months, I’ve awoken every morning, and looked at this map. Â I remember when not every state had COVID-19, I remember when New York started spiking, I remember when we started our stay-at-home time some two months ago.
I was aware that we were coming closer to the milestone of 100,000 deaths during this pandemic, and I thought about all I’d read about the Spanish Flu when I was in graduate school and wrote a short story about a dancer and her young soldier who went off to war and never came home, felled by the influenza that ravaged the world in 1918.
But how would I choose to depict our losses in our pandemic?

I’d seen death quilts, with little coffins neatly stitched, tucked away in their little graveyard or around the edges of quilt. Â Or would I want to depict them as Canadian physician Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae did, in his poem Flanders Fields?
But this past Sunday morning, I saw this:

I read the article online, scrolling through the humanizing choice that this paper had made, to give a person’s name and a salient, interesting fact about them from their published obituary.



At first it was just numbing, then I noticed this: a quilter. Â I began to look for other quilters.

I found several.

And on one page, I found not only a quilter, but a “collector of people, laughter and good stories.” Â It made me wonder: what one line would I want people to remember about me? Â I found several intriguing qualities, and I reflected briefly on that person, especially the one who was “Faithful in corresponding through cards and handwritten notes.” Â A woman after my own heart.




I loved Patricia Yanni’s quality: “Wasn’t afraid to try new things.” Â So often we look to people’s achievements, that they were this important person, or grandmother to twenty-five, or CEO of a Big Corporation, but wouldn’t you rather be known as someone who wasn’t afraid to try new things? Â I would.

I’d like to be known as someone who gets things done.

Someone who had a life-long passion for learning.
I circled the second one (in red) because now this was in my hometown, a hospital where I had gone for a surgery several years ago. Â Rosa could have been someone who cleaned my room, made my bed. Â I will think this week on all those lives that have been taken too soon.


I will remember the quilters.

















































