She showed me the way

This is a pillow my mom made. Her needlepoint was fine, exact and made with adept hands.  She could knit too.  Each of us had sweaters made with love.  I still have mine and one she made for Dad.  Some were decorated in intricate fair isle patterns that I can't replicate. 

I honor her every time I touch a piece of yarn.  When the arthritis in her hands took away her capability to use the needles to make her art, she gave me some of the skeins and thrums.  When the dementia took away her ability to remember how to manipulate the yarn into a creation, the rest of her equipment came home with me--a bitter-sweet but necessary act.  Now I make tapestries and other weaving with these bits and pieces.  Each time I use the yarn, I will touch a remnant that she touched and keep her quite alive in my heart.  I know that's what she would have wanted.