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Hanging by a Thread
My sister-in-law put it perfectly – For 14 weeks in Southampton Cardiac ICU, AJ (my brother) “perfected the art of hanging by a thread” before it frayed and snapped, dropping us silently and in slow-motion from a place of hope to a great depth of sadness, that only losing life-love or family can.
Back in April, my brother had a heart attack (but didn't know) which landed him first in Bournemouth and then to Southampton Cardiac Intensive Care, where he underwent 7 hours of surgery. The fact that he survived this, and the emergency surgery on the ward a couple of days later, was astounding enough. For the next three months, AJ continued to astound not only us, his family, but all those who treated and cared for him in CICU. He (and we) had a roller coaster ride of hope and setback. Towards the end he also had bowel surgery and was coming to terms with a proposed leg amputation. Thankfully, maybe, he didn't survive to have that operation.
Back in April, my brother had a heart attack (but didn't know) which landed him first in Bournemouth and then to Southampton Cardiac Intensive Care, where he underwent 7 hours of surgery. The fact that he survived this, and the emergency surgery on the ward a couple of days later, was astounding enough. For the next three months, AJ continued to astound not only us, his family, but all those who treated and cared for him in CICU. He (and we) had a roller coaster ride of hope and setback. Towards the end he also had bowel surgery and was coming to terms with a proposed leg amputation. Thankfully, maybe, he didn't survive to have that operation.
... so, during those 14 weeks ...
Something that was easily portable, relatively simple and that could document the experience without me having to write anything. Language, written language, is sometimes too semantically
I’d dabbled in sewing during my teens. It was the late 70s, when buying felt squares carried the equivalent excitement today of downloading another app from iTunes. I always felt ambivalent towards patchwork as a satisying mode of self-expression. I could never see the point of cutting up pieces of fabric only to sew them back together again in random fashion. Also, there was the whole ‘cutting up a gazillion paper templates, sewing fabric round them, only to rip them all out’ – what was that all about? I never finished any of those projects.
Not finishing projects used to be a theme in my life until I took up painting (where you have to know WHEN to stop) and studied for a degree as a mature student (there’s nothing quite so final as Finals). I’ve banished that spectre.
I’d dabbled in sewing during my teens. It was the late 70s, when buying felt squares carried the equivalent excitement today of downloading another app from iTunes. I always felt ambivalent towards patchwork as a satisying mode of self-expression. I could never see the point of cutting up pieces of fabric only to sew them back together again in random fashion. Also, there was the whole ‘cutting up a gazillion paper templates, sewing fabric round them, only to rip them all out’ – what was that all about? I never finished any of those projects.
Not finishing projects used to be a theme in my life until I took up painting (where you have to know WHEN to stop) and studied for a degree as a mature student (there’s nothing quite so final as Finals). I’ve banished that spectre.
By happy chance
I had been to the V&A Quilts exhibition with my lovely fellow nerdy colleague/sewing jam-making friend, Barbara … and I started to see how much more than sewing it all was. I also discovered a stack of rather old unsticky square post-it notes in the depths of my desk (GENIUS) …
So, given the little itch in the back of my mind from the V&A, and the portability issue, patchwork won hands-down .
So, given the little itch in the back of my mind from the V&A, and the portability issue, patchwork won hands-down .
When I started this project
I glibly thought "This is AJ's quilt.” I hadn’t planned what to do with it if he weren’t around to receive it.
I finally appreciate the calm and tranquility that can be gained from the repetitive tacking and stitching and close-up attention ... I was able to focus on thinking healing thoughts ... every stitch was about AJ - and I was constantly learning new skills, because despite hours spent watching quilting videos on YouTube, I was, basically, busking it ...
When he died three weeks ago, (selfishly leaving me with an unfinished quilt) I decided that I would split what I had into two 'lap quilts' and give one half to my sister-in-law. This didn't feel quite right either - I knew that although she’d totally understand the sentiment, she wouldn’t really like the object - so in the end, I decided to give one half to my 27 year-old niece – this seemed to combine perfectly the shared grief of losing him and of losing a father.
In parallel to the sudden change in real life – AJ had now died and there was no travelling, sitting and waiting - I rushed to get it finished (binding it on the train) before going back for my brother's funeral on Thursday, so that I could give it to Alannah for when all is quiet and just that little bit emptier.
I finally appreciate the calm and tranquility that can be gained from the repetitive tacking and stitching and close-up attention ... I was able to focus on thinking healing thoughts ... every stitch was about AJ - and I was constantly learning new skills, because despite hours spent watching quilting videos on YouTube, I was, basically, busking it ...
When he died three weeks ago, (selfishly leaving me with an unfinished quilt) I decided that I would split what I had into two 'lap quilts' and give one half to my sister-in-law. This didn't feel quite right either - I knew that although she’d totally understand the sentiment, she wouldn’t really like the object - so in the end, I decided to give one half to my 27 year-old niece – this seemed to combine perfectly the shared grief of losing him and of losing a father.
In parallel to the sudden change in real life – AJ had now died and there was no travelling, sitting and waiting - I rushed to get it finished (binding it on the train) before going back for my brother's funeral on Thursday, so that I could give it to Alannah for when all is quiet and just that little bit emptier.
Quilting as Therapy II is the story of the other half of the quilt ...
...where hand- quilting wins out over hand-tying ...