My 70-year-old mother was fighting an 18-year battle with cancer. It was a battle I knew she would someday 1 . Maybe soon. And it 2 my heart to think about that.
Mom and I had a good relationship, but we just weren't 3 in the way I was with my daughter. Mom and I never 4 or said "I love you" like I often do with my daughter. Sometimes I felt 5 about Mom's love for me.
"I've set about quilting, and I'll make one for you," my mother announced 6 over the phone one day. I tried to 7 her suggestion as it was too tiring for her, but she insisted.
My quilt was Mom's last one. A month later, I got a call from Dad saying Mom was gone. A great sense of 8 overwhelmed me -- the pandemic took away my last chance to see Mom and show my love to her.
One day, I decided to give quilting a(n) 9 myself for my daughter. I carefully 10 the fabric I thought she would enjoy, and maybe I was still trying to make a 11 between Mom and myself in this way. Sometimes I'd picture us sitting together in the living room quilting together.
Finally, I got the quilt Mom 12 me. I opened it and what I saw caught my 13 . It was exactly the same fabric I had chosen for my daughter! Yet something far more difficult to 14 at last became clear. Mom, in her own way, had silently said those three beautiful words "I love you" I was 15 to hear.
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