A Quilt for Justice

Years ago, and a couple years before I started quilting for real, I decided I was going to make a quilt for my 3rd baby. I knew if #3 was a boy, his room would be done in primary colors and trains. I think my mom started buying train fabric pretty much as soon as we found out #3 was a boy. When Justice was a few months old, I picked out a simple pattern and drew out the fabric plan on graph paper. I bought a general quilting book. I got as far as cutting out the first square and gave up. Clearly I had no idea what I was doing. Then Justice died and I had never made his quilt. Memphis was born and "inherited" Justice's bedroom design plans. By then, I was a quilter. But I couldn't bring myself to make a quilt for Memphis knowing that Justice's was never made. The plan was to make one for both of them. I had plenty of train fabrics for more than 2 quilts, so that wouldn't be a problem. And yet, I didn't start either.

Fast forward to a little over a month ago, just a couple of days before the 5th anniversary of Justice's death. A friend who had also lost a son posted this on Facebook.

 

It was a very timely post for me. The writing was credited to Henry Scott Holland. So, of course, I had to do my own research and make sure that's who really wrote it. He did. And I found there's a bit more to the passage.

"Nothing is hurt; nothing is lost. One brief moment and all will be as it was before. How we shall laugh at the trouble of parting when we meet again!" (Some sources say, "Nothing is past; nothing is lost.")

It may have actually been on the anniversary of his death that an idea was born. I finally started working on his quilt. Cutting fabric is old hat for me now. So the first part of the quilt went together quickly. The center is the original pattern I planned to use. The words took a little longer. I was attempting to get the top finished in a week. But I ended up getting three borders on and taking a month break before finishing it this morning.

I was undecided on what to put across the bottom. I consulted my BFF and sisters, and after some discussion, decided on "All is well." Other options were "Justice Wayne Blakey," "Death is nothing," or just a series of the asterisks. Putting his name on it just seemed a little too obvious. I already know it's his. ;)

I think this will finally be the quilt that makes me break down and pay for custom quilting. I usually do my own quilting, but this one needs a little extra special touch that's beyond my capabilities.

I'm so happy with how it turned out. And I still have plenty of fabric for Memphis' quilt. I just need some more of the black background, and I actually know of a place that still has it, 7 years later!

Blessings

Just Because

A couple weeks ago at church, a new lady asked me how many kids I have. I told her three. And then I kicked myself. I've done it a few times lately. I told myself it was because I just didn't want to get into it. In reality, 9 times out of 10, when someone asks how many kids I have, they do not inquire further. They don't ask their ages, how many boys or girls, or search for #4 if they only see 3 with me. I say 4 and that's the end of it. So that can't really be the reason. I was wondering why the sudden omission when talking about my kids. I realized something. A few months ago, a comment was made to Jake that he and I are different than anybody else this person has met in regards to how we are dealing with losing a child. They weren't sure if it's a positive or negative thing. This simple comment has resulted in me being super self conscious about how much I speak of Justice to others lately, by telling people 3 instead of 4 and by making an conscious effort NOT to include Justice in answer to questions about my children.

Here's the thing, I have four kids. Yes, one is dead. That doesn't make him any less my child or me any less his mother. Just because he's not here, doesn't mean I only have 3 kids. Just because he's not here, doesn't mean I don't talk about him. Me talking about  him, does not mean I have not moved on. It means I remember him. It means I cherish those memories. As Memphis moves through developmental stages, if you ask me what age the girls were when they reached whatever milestone, please expect to hear when Justice did also.

I'm not uncomfortable talking about Justice. I'm not even sorry if you makes you uncomfortable. He's my son, and my story to tell when and how I choose.

Just because he's not here, doesn't mean he doesn't matter.

7 years old

There were lots of thoughts running through my head while I was washing dishes. They're all gone now. Just this one remains: how are they 7 already?!?!

Seriously?

He needs to tone down the cute.

Memphis

Some of these are blurry. But they are way to cute not to share.

Pictures

I don't take many pictures with the camera these days. They are all on my phone. There's not a very good iPhone app for blogger. So here are a bunch of uncaptioned, out if order pictures of the girls and Memphis.

20 Months and 3 Days

20 months and 3 days. That's how long Justice was here, and that's how long he's been gone. I wasn't dreading this day. But it has been on my radar for quite some time. I'm not any more sad than usual. I'm just aware that from here on out, Justice will have been gone longer than he was here. It had to happen at some point. So much happened in his 20 months and 3 days here, and so much has happened in the 20 months and 3 days since he hasn't been here. Life continues whether we like it or not. We can choose to be angry for the time we didn't get to spend with him. We can choose to live in the past and dwell on the what-ifs and coulda-beens. Or we can choose to be thankful for time we did have and live in moment. We can choose to find joy in each day in spite of whatever the circumstances may be. Jake and I choose to be thankful. I don't know, maybe that choice is easy for us because for 6 weeks before he was born we didn't know if we would get to spend one day with him, much less an amazing 20 months and 3 days.