My Mother's Quilt

Reads: 56  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 1

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic

A reflection on the life and death of my mother

 My Mother's Quilt

(Reflections on the Life and Death of Mary J.E. Peck, 1935-2021)

 

As I re-entered the brilliant Nova Scotian October landscape on my way to witness my mother's laying to rest, I took notice of the natural beauty of the trees surrounding me. I saw the bright blazing scarlets, the deep baritone crimsons, the fervent warm golds, and the bittersweettangerines. Combined, they blanketed the forests and hills in the glow of a heatless fire. 

I was also compelled to acknowledge the many hues of green from which those flames had all evolved: the carpet of lively brightlimeand hopefulemeraldof youth, the energetic shamrock and tempering avocado of adolescence, and the wise olive and regretful hunter greens of old age.

burnt sienna future, I thought about the way the leaves are forced to accept their fate and let go of their connection to the life-giving tree, fulfilling their primordial contract with Mother Earth. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

In my ruminations about the colors of nature's cycle, my thoughts turned to my mother's life and death. She, too, experienced a journey through the coloration of life's seasons and events. Every day, every season, every year revealed deeper tones of her own colors and values, all of which were strong and steadfast. Some of her flames of color dissipated in the depths of her disappearing consciousness. Others roared to heights previously unknown, ignited by the freedom of her newfound lack of inhibitions. But every color was uniquely hers, a palette borne of her life experience.

She stitched her beautiful colors together by hand to create a comforting quilt in which she wrapped her loved ones to keep them warm and safe. At the heart of her work were the richest golds and the most radiant silvers of family; her love for her children and grandchildren was the unbreakable thread that made up every stitch. 

However, not every patch of the quilt was bright; she kept the darker patchwork small, including it only for the purpose of accentuating the luster of the rest. The blackest patches stayed locked in her sewing box, the realm of suppressed and decaying memories.

Now, like all her ancestors and some of her bloodline, she has been bequeathed with love to the rich brown soil of the Valley. She has shed her earthly quilt, leaving it to those who remain in hopes that it will still provide some morsel of strength and guidance. She has entered into God's kingdom, wrapped in the softest and most comforting quilt of all, made up of all the colors that only angels are able to see. 

Mom, rest in the warmth and peace of God's blanket of love. Know that your quilt will be passed down to generations to come, and your love and devotion to family will be the story that is told to the children who fall asleep swaddled in it.

I love you, Mom, and I'll see you when it is time.

October 15, 2021


Submitted: October 16, 2021

© Copyright 2021 Tammi Fitzpatrick. All rights reserved.

  • Facebook
  • Twitter
  • Reddit
  • Pinterest
  • Invite

Add Your Comments:

Comments

olive tree

wow the colourful imagery is unparalleled. keep it up!!

Mon, October 18th, 2021 7:20am

Author
Reply

Thanks very much!

Mon, October 18th, 2021 4:23am

Facebook Comments

Other Content by Tammi Fitzpatrick