When my sister-in-law, Rachel, came for Rory’s funeral she offered to make a quilt with Rory’s clothes.
It was an amazing offer.
Because of the move, ready or not, we were going to have to go through Rory’s clothes and possessions.
We had to decide what to keep, what to giveaway.
So, sending her clothes to a different state with a beloved aunt felt fine.
She called me with updates. She shared moments of love and tears as her and her friend labored over the quilt.
Within a few months Rory’s clothes were back with us in quilt form.
She did such an incredible job. It surpassed any expectation I ever had.
I touched her clothes.
Laid my head down on them.
The thought came to me.
“How is this all I have left of my daughter?”
She was vibrant.
Now, there were things.
Clothes, toys, hair brush.
And memories. So many memories of this loving girl.
But there would be no more hugs.
No more loves.
No more giggles.
No more hand holds.
How is that possible?
How is this all I have left of my daughter?