Memorial Day Quilt

Last year on May 26th my nephew Alex drowned in a lake near his home. Seven years old and profoundly autistic, he was a charming master of escape and even with all the precautions his parents had taken to prevent such a tragedy he slipped away and by the time neighbors and family could locate him it was too late.

It was a time our family will always remember and we think of Alex often, especially at family get-togethers where we notice his absence more than ever. For my sister Memorial Day has a special significance in the son she's lost.

I haven't written about it until now because there was a lot of misrepresentation in our local media. People who didn't know the family heard incomplete stories in the news and assumed the worst about the care Alex had received--some editorials were quick to judge without having all the facts. I didn't want to be involved in the noise and didn't want to cause more pain for my sister and her family by calling more attention to the things some people were saying.

But here it is, a year later, and something wonderful has happened. Some friends of ours who form a quilting group called my sister to ask if they could take some of Alex's clothes to make a quilt. Alex's clothes have sat in his bedroom untouched and my sister was relieved to find something to do with them without having to throw them away--a thing she'd dreaded.

A few weeks ago, just in time for Memorial Day, they presented her with the quilt. It's lap-sized, not quite big enough for a bed, but big enough for wrapping up on a cold, lonely day and each block of the quilt is made from one of Alex's outfits.

With all the different fabrics they used it was difficult to patch together--some fabrics stretching more than others--but they stabilized it by quilting diagonally across the squares and turning the seams inside out then they appliquéd one of Alex's flannel pajama sets onto the middle, with "Alex" quilted near the little feet.

Each square and detail are a comfort. For example, there are squares made from his fleecy bunny sleepers--Alex had a habit of stripping his pajamas off at night so my sister had rigged up a system of safety pinning through the zipper pulls to keep her little boy in his clothes at night--and a couple of the fuzzy squares have a safety pin lovingly pinned in the corner as a reminder.

Some of the squares are made with the clothing tags still attached reading "0-3 months." Some are made from the bib and straps of corduroy overalls, some with little cargo pockets that store one of Alex's socks that he refused to keep on his feet but would flip back and forth in his hands rhythmically. Each block represents a different point of time in Alex's life and stands as a tribute not only to a family's love but to the kindness of others who saw a grieving mother and did the best thing they knew how to do.

When the women presented the quilt to my sister she had tears as she snuggled into it. I was so touched by their thoughtfulness and ability to use their talents to comfort someone else that I had to share the story of the quilt--it will always be a little piece of Alex that his family can hold forever.

Technorati tags: quilting, motherhood