Ten years ago in October, my grandmother passed away, taking with her one of the brightest lights of my life. She was one of the people who has loved me most fiercely and unconditionally in this world, and I will always have a hole in my heart where she used to be. I inherited many things from her, from my main personality traits to my talent with textile crafts. You see, my grandmother was an expert seamstress and lace maker, and she made a living out of it since she was a very young girl. In fact, she fought her way into a seamstress apprenticeship in post Civil War Spain. But that's another story.
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| My grandma with her first sewing machine |
From time to time my grandmother used to commission cross-stitched pieces, and fifteen years ago, when I was just a teenager, I walked into her home to lay my eyes upon my first Mirabilia: the Spring Queen.
I loved it on the spot! I had never seen such an intricate, beautiful cross stitched piece. It blew me away and I couldn't praise it enough. I don't have any recollection that my grandmother ever registered this information. I suppose she smiled in that gentle way of hers and started making plans in her mind, but I never knew.
When she died, she left behind a lot of treasures. That particular Mirabilia now hangs in my grandfather's house, and even though I love it, I don't know to whom it will eventually go. But every time I walk past it, I stare at it and remember my grandmother and all the things that connect me to her, and the happy memories are right there intertwined with the sadness of losing her.
Today my mother called me over, because she had unearthed three bed covers that my grandmother had made, which apparently had Mirabilia designs cross-stitched in the middle of her own lace work. Naturally, I was very excited to see them!
My grandmother had made three different bed covers: one for herself, one for my mother, and the last one that she never got to finish was for me. My mother clarified that the cross stitched design was finished, but that the lace wasn't. She put the folded-up bundle in my hands and let me unwind it myself, and I want to show you what it was:
When I saw this, I think I literally stopped breathing for a moment. I felt like my grandmother was right there in the room with me, like she'd reached out and touched my face with her hand. Like she was speaking to me.
She knew. She remembered. She had wanted to surprise me with a design that she knew I loved. She had even stitched my name on it!
I was completely overwhelmed. There was a needle still threaded by her own hand somewhere along the top of the bed cover. There was a sample of the beautifully intricate lace that she had made to eventually put on the covers.
And there was more: a folded up note.
Here, in her shaky hand, my grandmother has written the cover measurements (3.30 by 2.50 meters) and the date she started working on the fringe: the 12th of June, 2009.
That's when I really teared up, because that was only one month before we found out she had aggressive pancreatic cancer. My grandma never finished this bed cover because she died only four months after starting it.
I really don't know what to say here. I feel like I have been given an incredible gift that speaks across the years and the time passed. I feel like my grandma is right here with me, and I just feel so lucky to have been loved by her.
I don't know what I will do with this gift, exactly, but I want to do it justice. It is partly stained with age, and I have no skill with lace (and don't think I will pick it up any time soon), so I don't really see myself using this as a bed cover. I wouldn't dare actually, with two playful young cats around the place, I'd be terrified that they would ruin it. If I can bring myself to it, I will cut out the cross-stitched design and frame it somewhere that I can see it every single day, probably in my bedroom, and think of my grandma every time I look at it. Then I can use the evenweave for another project that also reminds me of her, and the lace as a wall hanging. I'm not sure yet. All I know is that I want to do it justice.
That's all for today. I feel like even if this gift was stored away for ten years, I received it at just the right time, when I would most love and appreciate it.
To my grandma, all I have to say is: Gracias abuela. Te quiero.
Thank you grandma. I love you.
