On this Saturday eight years ago (although the date was the 28th of May, not the 25th), I was sitting at work, talking with a colleague when I got the phone call. Without even saying "Hello," my cousin Khadijah sobbed, "Uncle Craig is dead!" I went home immediately, stunned. My father was gone. My larger-than-life, fun-loving, vibrant, effusive father had died in a car accident. The thought that kept running through my head was, "Donald will never get to meet him." I was 9 months pregnant at the time, and Donald was born 3 weeks later.
No worries, Dad, Donald has met you many times over in the stories we tell and the photos we share.
 |
| Dad graduated from college the year I turned 11. I see that I get my aversion to ironing from him! |
 |
| Luckily, he was able to meet Jason several times. In every photo, Jason is gazing at him, enthralled. |
 |
| One of my favorite photos - my dad and my brother |
So this Memorial Day weekend, my father, who served in the US Air Force, occupies my thoughts.
 |
| He looked quite dapper in his uniform (with my grandmom) |
So does my mother-in-law. Knowing that she was dying didn't make losing her any easier. I wailed after losing my father that I never had a chance to say "goodbye." Having had that chance with Wilma, I realize there isn't enough time or words to say all that needs saying.
I've started making my husband a quilt from his mother's shirts. She loved striped cotton oxford-type shirts, usually in blue, so I'm making a Kaffe Fassett inspired Shirt-Stripe Boxes quilt. Luckily, she had a TON of them! I've disassembled several shirts, but have only made one square so far.
 |
| First block made from Wilma's shirts |
It is hard to cut and sew with tears in your eyes.
