The Quilt You Left

The Quilt You Left

A memorial song · Songbond

0:004:04
A song written from a true story Songbond
The story & lyrics

The story behind this song

Lift the lid of the cedar chest and the lavender rises and there she is. This square was the dress she wore to church the spring it rained for weeks; that one was the kitchen curtain, sun-bleached almost white; the flannel was Grandpa's, thin at the elbows from the winters on the farm. She cut up her whole life and sewed it warm, biting the thread instead of cutting it, leaving a little mark so even the finishing was hers.

Eighty years, every square accounted for, a map of everyone she ever loved.

For the family wrapping a new baby in her handiwork, telling her one day whose dress was the blue one.

Lyrics

Cedar chest and lavender
I lift the lid
And there you are
This square was the dress you wore to church the year it rained all spring
That one was the kitchen curtain, sun-bleached almost white
Grandpa's flannel, thin at the elbows, from the winters on the farm
You cut up your whole life and sewed it warm
Everyone keeps saying that you're gone
Grandma, I'm holding proof you're not
The quilt you left is a map of who you loved
Grandma, every square's a Sunday, every stitch a year
You bit the thread instead of cutting — left a little mark
So even the finishing was yours
I sleep beneath your whole life's work
You sewed through the nine o'clock news, thimble clicking like a clock
Saving scraps the way you saved us — nothing good gets thrown away
The lavender still rises when the cedar chest swings open
Eighty years, and every square accounted for
Everyone keeps saying that you're gone
Grandma, I'm holding proof you're not
The quilt you left is a map of who you loved
Grandma, every square's a Sunday, every stitch a year
You bit the thread instead of cutting — left a little mark
So even the finishing was yours
I sleep beneath your whole life's work
There's a new baby in the family, came home in January cold
First thing she ever felt was your handiwork around her
She'll grow up underneath your squares
Asking whose dress was the blue one
And we'll tell her. We'll tell her everything.
The quilt you left is a map of who you loved
Grandma, every square's a Sunday, every stitch a year
You bit the thread instead of cutting — left a little mark
So even the finishing was yours
I sleep beneath your whole life's work
Cedar and lavender
Warm all the way through

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From the Journal9 Memorial Songs for Grandma (+ One About Her Quilt)