Gifts of Nothing

My friend’s mother died last week of pancreatic cancer. I never had the opportunity to meet her, but from observations it’s clear she lived a good life and left a cherished legacy to her sons, her granddaughter and all of those who were blessed by her presence.


Her death has left my friend surrounded by well-wishes and hugs from friends, flowers that need to be transplanted, plants too big for the house. He has also found himself with a list of to-do’s as he carries out the duties as the executor of his mother’s estate. In the meantime, he comforts his mother’s widower and his own daughter in their grief, while he attempts to walk the high wire of living without the safety net of his mother.

I was lucky enough to hang out with him a bit over the weekend and bear firsthand witness to his mother’s artistry in the mounds of quilts she left for him. Most of the quilts were made by her. Other quilts were from family members dating back to Pre-Civil War Era.

Along with those was a scrapbook containing photos with detailed descriptions handwritten with names, dates, cost of materials, even the number of stitches per inch, for many of her quilts. As I ran my hands over the quilts and read the details of each one I felt as if I was reading her diary. Her search for perfection, her love of whimsy, her awareness to detail, her devotion to family, all of these spoke loudly in each stitch, in every word.

It seems she enjoyed quilting with others. She remade worn quilts, allowed others to complete the quilting phase when her eyes would no longer let her do it. In other words, she welcomed the community into her quilting. I guess since my grandmother quilted alone and guarded her creations like the Hope Diamond I was more taken with this aspect than the quilts themselves.

In fact, the quilts that spoke loudest to me were the quilts that weren’t even there. His mother was rare in the fact that she actually gave many of her quilts away and not just to her sons and granddaughter. She gave quilts to cousins and friends, to step-children and in-laws. She presented quilts to folks who had not earned them or had “blood-rights” to them.

Apparently my friend’s mother was okay with letting the quilts go. Apparently she was even more gifted in letting go than in quilting.

Like all of our families, my friend’s is as messed up as any other. Divorce, death and mental illness have touched their family. His brother is gay and it doesn’t sound as if their dad was exactly warm and fuzzy. Oh and the icing on the cake, place this family in Mississippi. . .really. It quite possibly could be the setting for a tv drama.

Anyway, my friend described the funeral, complete with his brother’s partner and my friend’s ex-wife in attendance. And don't forget his mother's grown step-children and the daughter's boyfriend, most included in her obituary as well. When I asked him if his mother would have been okay with all of that, he smiled and quickly said, “Oh, yes.”

Seriously, why would I ask? She had already given them a quilt, which for a southern woman is the same as giving her unconditional love and acceptance. The ultimate stamp of worthiness.

No doubt the weeks and months to come will be difficult for my friend as he grieves the death of his mother. I know that he will remember good times and special moments as he sorts through the physical reminders of his mother’s life. I hope he finds pictures that he has forgotten and unexpected reminders of the full life she lived. I know there are tons of slides and videos left to hold on to. But, I’m starting to think the best thing she is leaving him is nothing at all.

The best part of herself she gave away and he was lucky enough to watch her do it, lucky enough to learn how to do it himself.

I’m sure he’ll feel shaky on the high-wire of living in the days ahead without the physical presence of his mother. I’m sure he will feel her arms wrapped around him when he slides under a quilt to sleep, and I’m also sure he will discover that her gifts of love and hope and acceptance will be sufficient in cushioning any fall.

My prayer would be to leave the same “nothing” for my own children.