Today is Emily's funeral and I really don't want to wear black. It's not because everything I have that's black is really too small, except what I wore to the funeral home yesterday; sad but true. It's spring, can't I wear pink? Emily liked pink. She liked pink and balloons and tiaras, although wearing a tiara really isn't my style, I'm quite sure a 5 year old would hardily approve of me dawning a rhinestone crown in her honor. Black is what people expect, so black is what I'll wear. I guess it really doesn't matter and it seems pretty self-absorbed to be thinking about clothes when someone's little girl is gone. But if I think about Emily too much, it's hard to function, so wardrobe seems safe.
Emily was 5 years old and had cancer that spread throughout her whole body. I never had the pleasure of meeting her. All I did was make a quilt to help raise money for her family. But circumstances being what they are and quiltmakers being who we are- you get attached to those you create for. Everyday I would stitch and pray for her and her family. I got to know members of her family, some in person some just through e-mails. In an odd turn of events, Emily's brother was able to bring the quilt home to his sister. Two days later she passed away sleeping under that quilt of pink flowers. Her services will be held in the church where I volunteer and I guess it would be appropriate for me to wear black... but I do have a wonderful pink jacket that might be nice.
lost in the crowd--the beginning
25 minutes ago