I have treasured all your messages to me, and have read them over and over. Thank you for all your kind words on the occasion of the loss of my father. I will miss him greatly. I was unable to reply to you all individually; however, I appreciate what you said. I thought I would talk about some of the things that I’ve been doing to pass the time, fill the time, mark the time.

About a week before his death we knew the arc of Dad’s life was bending slowly to the earth, but it was Road to California Week, kind of an event around here and I had two classes, one from Lori Kennedy (on the left, above) and one from Annie Smith (right). I won the lottery on my teachers, not only for their classes, but for their humanity. I was pretty quiet on Monday during Lori’s but on Thursday when I walked into Annie’s, I had been crying the whole way there. Both women were sympathetic to this week of pre-grieving, kind souls who recognized a quilter in distress. I am glad to have met them both, and also to learn from them in many ways (yes, we talked death and it didn’t upset either of them). They both just sort of let me be creative on my own, far away from the goals of the class, so I just quilted in Lori’s, and drew a version of an appliqué block (“Citrus Grove”) in Annie’s. 

They were kind.

Saturday, I had determined to pose by my quilt, and I did. It was down the aisle from a stupendous quilt so most people just walked by, but that’s the game. That’s my smile when I felt like like I was stuffed with cotton batting, trying to produce a smile, but really wanting to cry, but gosh — it was Road, and I did want to see the quilts. Ever have days like that? (There are lots of YouTube videos of Road 2024, if you can’t wait for me.)

This was in the Cherrywood exhibit and I loved the colors they chose this year: a punch of green and orange together, along with the black. This one is one of my favorites. And I loved Picatso (below), by Nikki Hill. Click on the cat to see the whole mini quilt. A classic.

Because I sewed on a sit-down with the feature of “optical reading” of motion in my class with Lori Kennedy, and because I already had a Sweet Sixteen sit-down machine, I went to the Handiquilter booth to see what they had. This was their newest: the Insight Table. It will help me keep my stitches more even (I hope). There’s now one in my quilting room, and I pinned up Happy Valley to practice on. But I haven’t yet quilted on it.

That next day, just at the end of last week, we had our trees trimmed, something which happens every two or three years. Remember, in California, things never stop growing; we even mow our lawns in the winter. Yes, there is some dormancy, but cutting off excess and grinding it up to get rid of it is something we do. This was also the week that my family was planning/not planning the funeral events for my Dad. In some upset moments, I wish I could have brought a truck like the one on the right and thrown in all my excess feelings and ground them up. Mom was pretty specific with what she wanted for her service, and we did it. Dad was also specific with what he wanted…but we aren’t doing it. I read about this online and this situation can be common with the death of the remaining parent. Siblings can split up over this sort of thing (I have friends who have lost their whole family).

Families are more fragile than trees. 

I brought this quilt to the finish line. My husband helped me sort out the borders for this 2023 temperature quilt, and it’s ready to go to my quilter’s.

Remember how I wrote about that local quilt store that closed at the end of the year around here? I put some of that fabric to good use with this backing. If you are doing a Temperature Quilt, buy yourself a tea towel on ETSY with the calendar on it. I also added a stylized image of California and the temperature key I also finished:

I had chatted with Lori about the temperature quilts she and her sister were making in Minnesota, after seeing mine. When we talked later that week, she told me she liked my free pattern, but that I’d made a mistake: the temperatures only went to 36 degrees on the low side. Yeah, she’s right. It’s a California scale. We laughed about it and she said she’d add more. (And, um, don’t judge the embroidery. I don’t know why I can’t do the stem stitch. I do much better when it’s the back stitch.)

Nights this past couple of weeks have been hard. I saw that inscription when we visited Chicago this past September and Isaac Barrow was right. First I was reading Home, by Marilyn Robinson, and the ending of that book echoed what was going on in our family: the family being called home as the father was fading. One of the main characters, Glory, tended to cry — boy, could I identify with her. It was a powerful book of loss, of love, and a nod to the Parable of the Prodigal Son. Then I turned to something completely different: a sheep mystery, Three Bags Full, translated from the German. Both were “effectual comforters”. Three Bags Full was a “cheerful companion,” and Home was a “wholesome counselor.” I decided to read them in real book form, as I needed to hold onto something tangible at night in those evening hours that are hard to pass. We also are enjoying the PBS series All Creatures Great and Small. I’m glad these quiet stories are here.

My friend Charlotte gave me this Amaryllis for Christmas, and everyday we notice changes: from one blossom, to two, and now two more are opening up to make four. She says to plant it in the garden when I’m done with it, and it will come up every year. I’m in this interesting “slowed-down time” — different from than when my mother died — where I take life at a less hectic pace: quiet dramas on television, watching lilies bloom, and reading paper books. The grief is not as profound, I can tell. Just different. Next week I’m grabbing my children who are coming up for the committal and we’ll be clearing out my parent’s apartment. It does make me re-evaluate what I’m hanging on to, and getting rid of.

I’ve been trying to be diligent about keeping up with my morning walks, and today — after I dropped Three Bags Full at the library dropbox downtown — I walked around those streets. I thought the Katarina tile was appropriate to what I’m going through.

If only we could just open a faded red door to get more power for ourselves.

It says: Be Kind to Yourself Today.