My dad's birthday was on Halloween, easy to remember, although I haven't had trouble remembering that my mother's birthday was April 2. I don't remember what day my mother died, not that it matters now. She was 57 when she died of ovarian cancer, sometime in April 1986. She was diagnosed in October of 1985, and I'll never forget the winter winds sighing through the tall trees, just as they are doing right now, and the hospital bed here in the living room.

My mother could never decide what kind of window coverings to put on the big picture windows in the living room, so they were bare up until 17 years later when I decided on wood blinds. She commented that it felt like she was dying in a fish bowl, although we've never had any near neighbors.

She was a quilter, and she wanted to get some quilts done for certain people before she died. We all worked on them: my Aunt Irene, my sister, and I, and my mother bossed us around.



This is a pattern called Drunkard's Path. That's my Aunt Irene, my sister, and my mother, left to right.