A Patchwork of Love
Honoring a Life of Strength, Simplicity, and Stitching Joy

When my friend Michael reached out, I knew this one would be special... and hard. His mother, “P”, had recently passed after several difficult months of hospice care. He had taken leave from work to be with her during that time. They were incredibly close.

P was the kind of mom who worked hard to provide for her three children after a divorce, even when resources were tight. “We didn’t have a lot,” Michael told me, “but we always had what we needed.”

Later in life, quilting became a shared joy between Michael and his mom. She even built a special quilting room in her new home after tearing down the house where they grew up. So when it came time to plan a celebration of life, the quilts had to be front and center — and they were.

Twenty quilts. Each one with a story. Michael and his sister, Heather, worked together to curate the display. Heather even wrote up the history of each piece: the pattern, who received it, where the fabric came from. It was a beautiful documentation of their mother’s love, creativity, and care.

Michael had already chosen the perfect venue: the Como Park Visitor Center’s private room, overlooking the gardens in full spring bloom. We planned the ceremony for May 3, just as the cherry blossoms were peaking.

I brought in my décor partner to help us display the quilts museum-style. We gave each piece space to shine, anchoring the front of the room with the “Memorial Quilt”... a masterpiece made of 1,300 squares, each one tied to a person, moment, or place. Fabric from friends, family, and loved ones across the country came together in a riot of color and meaning. We hung it behind the table where her urn rested, surrounded by a pussywillow wreath with spring flowers. 

On the guest tables, we used mason jars, a nod to P’s canning days, filled with cheerful spring wildflowers, wrapped in jute string. Heather designed the invitations, which featured a baby blue background and a field of flowers, so we echoed that artwork with our florals and table runners.

Guests were invited to take home fat quarters (small squares of quilting fabric), seeds for planting, and copies of P’s favorite recipes, because she also loved to cook and garden.

A photo montage played with music from P’s favorite playlist. Two longtime friends, one on guitar, one on violin, played Fleetwood Mac and other unexpected-yet-perfect tunes.

For the luncheon, Michael’s brother Josh (a self-described “recovering chef”) created a menu full of P’s favorites: fresh lettuce salad with all the toppings, meat and cheese trays, beef sliders, lemonade and coffee, cookies — and chou chous, of course.

All three of P’s children spoke — and spoke beautifully. Grandkids and others followed, painting a vivid picture of a woman who gave much, asked little, and stitched love into every corner of her life.

Angela from Inspired Journeys offered a moving reflection. Though she had only known P briefly through hospice, she spoke as though they had been friends for years. She invited the grandkids to bring small tokens to place at the urn — a bird, a rose, a rock, even a tiny goat — each one tucked in beside her urn on the table. 

Heather even thought of the youngest guests, creating a kids’ table with coloring books, stuffed animals, activity books, and fidget toys — making sure every person there, no matter their age, felt considered and cared for.

And then came the community. Friends and family from near and far showed up. Former neighbors, coworkers, her kids’ childhood friends. They gathered, shared stories, explored the quilt exhibit, took home flowers (because P would never have wanted them thrown out), and honored a woman who made beauty from scraps, meals from little, and memories that stitched generations together.

It felt like a living museum. So intentional. So warm.

One guest — a former client of mine — turned to his wife and said, “When it’s my time, call Wendy. This is exactly how I want my sendoff to be.”

And that… says everything.

We believe P would have approved. And her kids were at peace... full hearts, even in grief.