when we got married, almost 13 years ago, it was a tiny little family gathering on our back porch.  and we were fortunate enough to have 4 of our grandparents still living and able to share the day with us.  my grandfather was 98 then (he lived another 7 years), and my grandmother, his wife of 71 years, had died 3 years before.  that afternoon in september, our families were mingling, getting to know each other, really.  and he was drawn to tom's granny.  he sat beside her on the wicker loveseat in the late day september sun, and took her hand in his.  he sat holding her hand.  i don't know what he was feeling, but i think he had a little rustle of love in his belly.  comfort.  excitement.  that fresh little warm flood of joy.  sharing a little humanity.  i think of that moment often.  i think my grandpa had a little flush of butterflies that day.  and maybe tom's granny too.  she sent a card and a letter a couple years later for his 100th birthday.  and often asked about him. a little crush perhaps.  but at the very least, a warm dreamy moment shared.  holding hands. and a few days ago, it was tom's granny's funeral we went to, the last of our grandparents.  

this sunday, the 17th of february, we are having a sale at the studio.  the little white house at 55 mowat ave will be open from 10 until 5.  come visit and wander through the rooms of quilts and books and sterling jewelry.  share a little conversation and break up the monotony of winter. 

winter mornings.  early chill in the air.  a little circle of new warmth settles around the fire.  i'm curled under my edgar quilt avoiding the kitchen that is still a mess from last night.  but i was at the studio all day yesterday.  and i finished several quilts.  including this black and gray beauty.  
i'm sewing easily again.  i work in a chaotic swirl of fabric and thread.  i need to see what i'm working with.  i need to have my choices spread out before me.  fabric is sprawled everywhere while i make all the various decisions that go into each quilt. soon the clean-up will begin, and the glow of the little white house will welcome you in.
we're having a sale on sunday.  the first in two months.  the little white house will be happy to be open and full of life and vigor again.  and you'll find more than just quilts.....remember there is a collection of wonderful sterling jewelry and a room of vintage books as well as a little art gallery under the eaves.  so, this weekend, on sunday the 17th, come by 55 mowat avenue.  we'll be open from 10 until 5. 

 he is still a very real presence in our home.  i don't once walk in the door without the brief and broken joy of expecting to see him, the urge to call to him.  i sit on his couch with my 'edgar quilt' now to be near him.  but we are healing.  i am back in the studio.  i'm working steadily now.  but his presence is strong.  we have had such touching and comforting gestures of kindness during the past weeks.  so many cards with sincere and comforting words.   flowers, gifts of food, chocolate,  even aromatherapy candles from someone i've never met. so we move on, each day is a new one. i've been in touch with a great dane rescue organization.  there is one particular dog there who's eyes have called to me since i first saw his picture a few weeks ago. and he desperately needs a loving home.  i think he would love living with us.  and i know we would love him.  but i'm not ready to lose edgar's presence. and i know when a new warm soul is here, there will be a quiet fading.  i can't bear to start that yet.   

when i was up in the night with edgar at christmas, the light of the christmas tree was the perfect light.  not too harsh....a soft glow to see by.  when we took down the tree, i knew i'd miss it's perfect light, so i made a nightlight from a strand of lights in a bowl.  a bowl of light, a symbol of edgar.   
it may be a mistake as i drag my feet about bringing a new dog into our home.  this might be the one we are meant to have. but we can't be ready until we're ready.  

snow is felting the air.  the morning is early and pink.  cats around the fire.  i am wrapped in quilts on edgar's couch, the world outside halted and white.  tom is sick with the plague that has been circling our community.  i'm eating fruit and taking the concoctions my mother recommends, hoping to avoid his illness  settling in me next.  tomorrow is tom's granny's funeral. i hope he is feeling stronger by then.  to have the strength to say good-bye to his last grandparent.  our last grandparent.

i am sewing.  finally there are quilts beginning to pile up in the studio again.  i love the feeling of piles of quilts.  it feels safe.  it feels prepared.  dreamy and warm and bright.  but mostly, safe.  lots of baby quilts this week.  and the beginnings of more farmhouse quilts. 

so i will work today, with the snow silencing our little world.

i've been sewing.  trying to sew through the absence of him.  i'm still finishing the quilts that i made with him.  the edgar quilts.  this is one of them, the one listed on etsy.  and i'm wrapped up in mine right now, the one i kept.  it's our new favorite quilt.

i haven't found my way just yet.  i'm still struggling through.  but the fabrics are keeping me focused.  there are several quilts on the go.  i delivered a stack of them yesterday to megan for her to make them magical with her wonderful quilting.  it lifted my spirits, driving through the sun on a cold day.  the back country roads.  the warm sweet smell of farm in the air.  her happy and rosy cheeked girls just awake from their naps excited to show me their own special quilts. the woodstove pumping heat into the cozy farmhouse kitchen. and looking at the quilts she's working on.  megan sells on etsy as well.  here's the link to her shop

stella is curled up against me, sleeping in the folds of the quilt.  she has made it her mission to stay by my side.  she misses him.  she finds his blankets and presses her face into them like i do. she is a warm little soul all soft and sad. so we pass the early morning together, waiting for the daylight when i'll go across the yard and sew.

getting up early feels purposeless without edgar's warm steady breathing filling the room.  it's been difficult to start my day and be productive.  but gradually i'm finding my way back. making my way to the studio even for a few hours every day.  i'm working on a small and limited little collection of quilts.  the quilt tops that i pieced together while i was home with edgar.  my edgar quilts.  after i realized he was dying, i knew these would be special quilts.  there are four of them.  lovely farmhouse throws, professionally quilted by megan.  although i'm always tempted, i never keep my favorite quilts.  but this time, i'm keeping one.  so there will be three farmhouse quilts listed in the next little while that are infused exquisitely in love (even more than my quilts usually are)   

tracy sent me this photo last night.  a photo she took of one of his quilts that he had torn a heart into. jump starting my work, sending me off into this new week with purpose!

 it's been a week and a day since we lost our beautiful boy. and the sadness doesn't seem to stop.  
edgar recovered swimmingly from his surgery in november.  yet i felt, even then, that i couldn't leave him alone.  i felt he needed me.  and i couldn't seem to keep him comfortable without pain meds.  he was limping and the limping was worsening with each week.  we thought it was nerve damage from the surgery, and the aches and pains of winter.  but a week into january, we learned of the cancer in his shoulder, coursing through him.  and eight days later, he was gone. bravely, with tom and i both beside him. and he left us the gift of not having to make the unbearable choice of euthanizing.  he was only briefly uncomfortable.

the joy in our world is gone.  i am lucky that during the last 2 months of his life, i was able to spend almost every moment with edgar, without the sad and final energy of knowing he was dying. the memories are beautiful, but waking up to a house without edgar is a disappointment every time.  our friends, our family, our co-workers and our wonderful vets have made this awful experience as good as it could be. our vet came to the house almost daily to check on him (and us), and arranged medication to be delivered so we didn't need to leave him. we have been showered with love and kindnesses.  we are bursting with gratitude.  and sorrow.
i couldn't bring myself to make this post until now.  but, as always, this blog is part of my healing.  part of directing me to a healthy place.  and today is a new day.