8 pillows. I sat and sewed all day, and he was dying. But we didn’t know it.

We didn’t know the days were numbered as I toiled with a borrowed sewing machine and he slept with knees on the floor, his upper body lying on an ottoman. It was the only way he could breathe easily.

My mother taught me to sew, but I don’t really know how. I was so proud of these pillow covers and their rough final seams. They’ve held up surprisingly well through the years.

Facebook memories are funny. I wonder if this would still be a poignant memory if it didn’t come up in “memories” from year to year.

But here it is still.

I sat at the kitchen table, on the bench and not the chair so my back wouldn’t be toward him.

The apartment would have been immaculate because Jon always liked things especially neat. I was the messy one in that relationship. So there may have been a “closet monster,” the place in the closet where I did not hang up my clothes.

But everywhere else there was order.

I don’t remember if I listened to an iPod while I worked or only the hum of the sewing machine. The TV was not on.

I sat and sewed and probably prayed. About suffering. About heart surgery. About Jon’s cough. About all the unknowns.

But had I known we were four days from death, perhaps I wouldn’t have pressed a pedal for hours. Perhaps I would have snuggled beside him. All day.

Perhaps I would have made him go to the doctor that day, and not wait for a cardiology appointment.

But I did not know. I loved those pillows. I’ve always been drawn to colors.

//

Today I rocked a baby and snuggled her a little longer. Today I rocked a toddler and stroked his soft hair. In house far from orderly. Far from quiet.

And it occurred to me, I might have to shepherd my dear ones through deep waters one day.

Tears for a memory of pillows and a very sick husband.

Tears for what could come.

And a prayer whispered. “Lord they are yours, oh Lord I don’t ever want those deep deep waters again. But if they come, you will be there. You have taught me to hold the ones I’ve love most, loosely. You have taught me you are enough.”

11 years in a few days. Some memories still stir emotions.