Memorare

My cloak is gossamer, but it is woven of sadness, and I have worn it most of my life. Those who gave it to me have all gone now. Sometimes, however, in the darkness of the night, I still hear them. Their voices ring out like the long ago chimes of the Angelus sounding at noon from St. Paul’s. The laughter I hear belongs to the cousins; wonderful Willie, beautiful Kathleen, and my beloved Denny. The silence that hangs heavy on the air belongs to the Uncles, and in the blackness of the lonely night, it is louder than the laughter. Aunt Meg, beloved Aunt Meg, left only her quilt which I still treasure as I remember a time when I was quite young, and my world was very different.

CHRISTMAS, HELL’S KITCHEN, 1941

Aunt Meg did a lot of work on her quilt this year. She edged all the squares with black. At first, I didn’t like it, but now I do. She told me a quilt is like life, and there always has to be contrast between light and dark. She said, as she goes along, I’d start to see how vivid black makes the other colors look. She explained she’s using colors that remind her of people, and my color is blue. She said Mama is red, and Beth is yellow like sunshine. I asked her what her own color was, and she got very sad and said, “I’m one of the browns.”

Mama doesn’t like Aunt Meg’s quilt. I heard her talking to Uncle Pat, and she said, “You would think it was going on the Duchess of Windsor’s bed, Pat. I’m sick and tired of hearing about the colors of the quilt. A quilt is a quilt, and that’s all. You pick out the material, and you use it, and then you put it over the sheets. But not the way Mary and Meg are carrying on about it. You would think it was made of gold.”

Mama asked Kathleen and the boys if they wanted to come to dinner, but Kathleen said no. Willie is working overtime at the hotel, and she and Denny are taking Pop Delaney to the Automat for a belated Thanksgiving dinner. Maybe they’ll come over later on. I hope she comes. I can’t wait to have her see Aunt Meg’s quilt. It is so beautiful. It makes me happy just looking at it.

When Kathleen saw the quilt last night, she couldn’t believe how amazing it was. She said, ”Oh, I know you tried to tell me, Mary, but you were right. It is just incredible. It reminds me of the mosaics we are studying in art class. The colors are pieced together so perfectly, they almost tell a story. It’s difficult to believe she did this all by herself. Your Aunt Meg is such a quiet person, and the quilt is well, I guess you could call it an explosion of color. There is a gentle line of bright blue (peacock blue Nana Delaney used to call it) that runs zigzagging through all the other colors like the veins in our body; persistent and strong and almost throbbing. I only wish I had a camera to take a picture of this quilt so I can always remember it.”

“Your Aunt Meg even seemed to change when she showed it to me. She seemed different than she is when I see her with her sister at High Mass on Sunday. I told her it was magnificent, and I meant it. She was so happy. I have never seen her that way before. She asked me to keep it a secret, but she is giving it to someone she loves for Christmas.”

The Christmas Eve when I received the quilt was a very long time ago, and not too many years later, I left that world and moved quite far away carrying Aunt Meg’s gift with me. Now in a decidedly different time and place of my life, I cannot understand why some memories can cause pain. Still I now realize a gift of love endures forever.