Later on, as I was dusting the pictures in my house in preparation for today’s family gathering, and I was caught again by tears. I was dusting the framed print of a poem I had written for my mother 20 years ago, in May of 1992. Next to it is my cross stitch picture of a grandmother and granddaughter sitting together working on a quilt, with baskets of yarn and kittens at their feet. I gave the framed embroidery and poem to my mother for Mother’s Day 20 years ago, and after her passing, my father gave them back to me.
The poem and picture tell a little about my grandmother, who had rheumatoid arthritis, diabetes and blindness. I must have inherited a little of my auto-immune profile from her! My mother helped me know the real heart of my grandmother, even though my time with grandma was extremely short. Here is my poem, written in the spring of 1992 as I worked on the cross stitch picture for her gift.
My mother’s a patchwork stitched over the years,
Mom quilted her likeness one piece at a time,
This daughter remembers a few cherished thoughts
I try to pass on this fine quilter’s art,
She knows certain things that her grandmother loves,
I’m hoping that someday in God’s grand design,
By Lupus Adventurer