I have made them before. When people ask me to chop up their beloved clothes and combine them into a quilt, I know how to do it. Some quilters run the other direction, but I have made my peace with taming the stretch. The thing is, quilters are partial to woven fabric, with its compliance to staying put. Ironing adds to the desired look of flatness we aim for, but tshirts are notorious for emblems that are not heat resistant. 

I finished two of them this week, taking a brief pause for a sweet baby quilt of blue batiks. One collection tells the story of a family's lifetime, with college shirts, vacation spots, and military service. I expect it will be well loved. The other is to hold close a daughter who died too young, and the pieces are from her wardrobe. I got to know her as I held the fabric that had held her. 

Most of us reluctantly acknowledge that we "can't take it with us", but there is a power in what we have left behind. For someone who has been robbed of her daughter's voice, there is comfort in being wrapped in the soft shirts that rubbed against her skin. 

My hope is that these quilts will embody the memories that hold us together as a family. It is tender to be the one to make it possible.