The infamously-named Dead Dad quilt is finally finished. Just in time to go on holiday with my mother. Wrapped in a quilt, instead of loving arms. So hard.The first times I worked with these shirts I couldn’t stop crying, now I can finish it and at least feel serene. Tearful, but pleased and smiling at the result. Quilting out the grief.
You can just get a peak of the back here: a “vintage” sheet (i.e. second hand…), and some lovely French toile de jouy in blue and white. He did love France, my darling and most European of British fathers.
Happy washing! JJ