Legacy of Love: Mom's Life, in Stitches

Friends, I have been procrastinating writing this blog post, just as I have been postponing calling the probate attorney and the banks and the insurance companies and everyone else you're supposed to notify when someone dies and you've been assigned these responsibilities in their will.  Honestly, I just want to call my mom and complain about how everything sucks right now, but she won't answer.  Her phone is right in front of me in a ziplock bag on my desk, along with her Apple watch, her drivers license, her passport, and her car keys.  All of this is very weird and feels very, very WRONG.

Me and Mom, Naples Zoo, December 28, 2024

My mom, according to the funeral home lady, is "in the lovely blue urn you selected," which makes it sound like she's Barbara Eden in "I Dream of Jeannie" and she will pop out wearing harem pants and granting wishes.  Which is exactly what I would tell my mother if I could call her right now, because that would make her laugh.  My brain understands that my mom is gone and that death came as a blessing to end to her suffering.  However, my heart wants to believe that, if I call her tomorrow, she will answer her phone.  

Last Selfie With Mom, June 4, 2025

This was my last selfie with Mom when I got to Austin late in the afternoon of June 4th.  She had been in bed for three days straight before that, but insisted on getting dressed and moving to the recliner in the living room because I was coming.  I had no idea she only had three days left, two days really because she was unresponsive for most of the day Saturday before she passed.  Her decline over that 72 hour period was just unbelievably fast, even catching the hospice team by surprise -- they did not have the morphine available in the house yet because they had "staged" her as not being close enough to needing it.  Anyway, I don't want to dwell on those few days because that's not how my mom would want to be remembered.  I did write her obituary and it's online here, but there were a few more things I wanted to share here:

The Kangaroo Costume Mom Made for My Son Lars in 2018

That's a kangaroo costume my mom sewed for my son Lars, for one of his high school theatre class projects.  She also sewed some costumes for a middle school production of Legally Blonde that my son Anders was in, dozens of figure skating costumes for my sister Susan...  I wish I had photos of more of mom's projects to share with you.

Our Annus Horribilis: Of Bereavement, Unmooring, + The Quilts We Leave Behind

Many of you have reached out to me privately out of concern that my family might have been impacted by Hurricane Milton.  Thank you so much for thinking of me.  We did lose power for 18 hours after the storm but nothing was damaged and no one was harmed.  The reason I haven't been writing blog posts is that we lost Bernie's dad suddenly to cancer on October 1st, less than 13 months after his mother passed away last September.  We have been upended by an emotional storm of stress, anxiety and grief before Milton was even on the radar and will be dealing with its aftermath for a long time.  My husband asked me to write his dad's obituary for the Naples Daily News and you can read about his amazing life online here.

Fred's rare and aggressive "locally advanced" squamous colon cancer was only diagnosed this past March, within weeks of our moving to Florida.  He underwent major surgery in May to remove a football-sized tumor along with a large chunk of his colon, his entire gallbladder and a third of his liver.  The surgeon thought he had gotten all the cancer with clear margins.  After months of rehab and recovery, Fred was feeling better and was looking forward to taking a trip with my sister-in-law in mid-September when everything suddenly went downhill.  A new tumor had developed and grown to the size of a golf ball on what remained of his liver, obstructing his bile duct and causing acute liver failure.  Scans done at the hospital revealed more new cancer that had spread all throughout the soft tissue in his abdomen.  Fred spent another two miserable weeks in the hospital in September (during which Bernie had Covid and couldn't even visit his dad) and then after his discharge we endured agonizing follow up appointments with his surgeon and oncologist where the news was bleak: they were very sorry, surgery and chemo and everything else were out of the question now that he was in advanced liver failure, and things were "going to move quickly from here," as one doctor put it.  The oncologist recommended hospice and told us that any out of town relations who wanted to say their goodbyes should not wait until Thanksgiving; they should come now.  And then, just a week after leaving the hospital, he was gone.  

My Father-In-Law Fred with the Halo Quilt I Made for His Wife, February 2024

My husband and his sister are in shock.  They were used to talking to their dad nearly every day, and I think they are feeling unmoored by the loss of both parents (in addition to losing a cousin under tragic circumstances) within the space of a single year.  Only six months ago, Fred was a force to be reckoned with, larger than life, with a booming bass voice recanting family histories, forcefully expounding his political views, and interrogating his grandchildren about their education and career goals.  None of us anticipated that cancer would take him so swiftly despite his fighting with every ounce of willpower and all the resources of modern medicine.  

Fred spent the past five years caring for my mother-in-law Marlies throughout her heartbreaking dementia and other debilitating health issues.  Most of his hobbies and all of his traveling was suspended during that time that he was tethered to the house and always at her side, knowing that his presence was comforting.  He was devastated when she finally passed in September of '23.

My Mother-In-Law Marlies with My Halo Quilt in August, 2023

So that Halo quilt that I made for Marlies in August of 2023, my most recent personal quilt finish, has already been left behind and inherited by another family member twice: First Fred inherited it from Marlies, and now the quilt has come back home to me, inherited by my husband.  I loved that quilt when I finished it, but now that it's back in my house I have mixed feelings about it.  I washed it and it looks brand new even though it was used daily -- neither of them owned the quilt long enough for there to be any visible wear whatsoever.  This quilt was NOT SUPPOSED TO COME BACK TO ME YET.

One Less Bell to Answer, One Less Egg to Fry, One Less Dog to Pick Up After... Saying Goodbye to Otto

I've been putting this post off for awhile now, but I might as well get it over with.  This post has nothing to do with sewing or quilting and everything to do with why I haven't been sewing or quilting lately.  

The canine love of our lives was a joyful, ball-chasing, howling-and-singing companion full of energy.  He followed along behind Bernie every time he mowed the lawn, as if the two of them were patrolling the yard together.  He slept at the foot of my bed, and I swear his gentle snore was the best sleep machine noise ever.  Whenever I started singing anything, especially anything in a minor key or anything with "Alleluia" in it, he'd sit up, wag his tail, and howl along with me like a canine Andrea Bocelli belting out his favorite aria.   

Our Sweet Otto, Jan. 5 2011 - Dec. 20 2019

At nearly 9 years old, Otto was the absolute picture of health at the beginning of December, except for a troubling limp that was getting worse instead of getting better, despite restricting his activity and giving him anti-inflammatory meds.  We took him to the vet on the Tuesday before Christmas for X-rays and were totally blindsided by a diagnosis of advanced osteosarcoma, an aggressive and very painful bone cancer with close to 100% mortality because it tends to metastasize before it's even diagnosed.  Our choices were to either amputate his affected leg and put him through chemotherapy, which would eliminate the tumor pain but only give him another 4-5 months, or manage his pain with medication for as long as possible, likely 1-3 months.  

Otto and Lulu Snuggling With My Son, Lars (Otto in Foreground)

Even with that awful news, we expected to have a few months to pamper and love on him.  I was researching his bone cancer online, ordering him special orthopedic beds from Orvis so he'd be more comfortable and getting recommendations for veterinary oncologists.  But I didn't even get a chance to take him to a specialist -- his initial diagnosis was on Tuesday, and by Thursday afternoon he was absolutely leveled with pain that was beyond control, with vomiting and bloody diarrhea and so extremely ill that there was nothing we could do for him but let him go on Friday.  My sweet, loving dog who wanted nothing more than to be glued to our sides, constantly supervising us and snuggling with us, was at the point that he was hiding beneath the deck steps at 3 AM in 20 degree weather, unable to pick up his head.  He wouldn't come in the house, he wouldn't/couldn't come when called.  And when we brought him back to the vet on Friday he was so severely dehydrated, low blood pressure, rapid heart rate, gums were pale and did not pink up when pressed, still having bright red bloody diarrhea, suffering so badly...  All of this happened only three days after receiving the bone cancer diagnosis, with a dog who had been full of playful puppy energy and joy up until that point.

Happy Boy Just a Few Months Ago, Visiting Lars at College

To say that it has been a sad couple of weeks for our family is such an understatement.  Even Otto's sister Lulu, our other Rottie, is grieving.  At first she seemed agitated after we took Otto away and didn't bring him home, and she would run to the door whenever someone came home like she was hoping they'd brought Otto with them.  Now she seems more depressed and anxious, even though we've been trying to give her lots of positive attention and distractions.  She won't play, she doesn't want to go outside except to go potty, and she's been licking at her forelegs a lot.  I got her some tasty chew bones for redirection and that's helping, but she's definitely affected as much as we are -- she and Otto were together since birth, she's never been an only dog before, and her personality is totally different now.

Lulu Snuggling with Lars's Feet on Christmas Morning

I just wanted to share some of my favorite Otto pictures and memories as a final goodbye to the best little choir dog and quilting supervisor ever:

My Sweet Baboo, Otto, Supervising Pineapple Log Cabin Quilt Construction

I loved it when Otto would hang out in my sewing room with me.  Such a cutie pie.

More Hanging Out With Mommy in the Studio

In the Studio With Me For the Last Time, The Day Before We Lost Him

Otto had three favorite humans on this planet: Me, my husband Bernie, and our oldest son Lars.  My younger son Anders and my mother were also in his "inner circle" of humans from whom love and kisses were tolerated.

Another Puppy Pic, Back When Bernie Could Still Scoop Him Up in His Arms

Snuggling With My Husband Bernie, In My Office.  Lulu on Left, Otto on Right

As ferociously as he could bark at would-be intruders and door-to-door salesmen, Otto was incredibly gentle and loving with family members.  He was such a snuggler!

Lars and Otto Had Such a Special Bond.

More Snuggling With Lars

On his last morning, once Bernie got Otto out from under the deck steps, he was able to get him into the garage where it was a little bit warmer, but he wouldn't come in the house and he was unwilling or unable to pick up his head, even when I started the car right next to him.    

When Otto Wouldn't Come In the House, Lars Came Out to the Garage

It's so strange not having Otto in my house anymore.  No howling when I sing.  No snoring in my bedroom.  No supervision in the quilting studio.  No furry friend appears in my kitchen, looking up at me with hopeful longing the instant I take out butter, chicken, or peanuts.  No one scratches the side of my desk chair impatiently to tell me "Enough computer -- time to throw my tennis ball!"  The worst is when I glance down at his favorite places where he used to lay and no one is there.

I Smell Butter.  Or Chicken.  Or Peanut Butter.

Raising this dog has been a wonderful experience that I would do again in a heartbeat, despite all of the challenges and inconveniences that come with owning a strong, powerful dog who is distrustful of strangers.  I wrote about my dogs the day we brought them home as 9-week-old puppies, I have shared their antics and adventures here over the years, and it seemed only fitting to give Otto a eulogy here on my blog.  

Selfie With Puppies On the Car Ride Home From the Breeder.  Otto on Left, Lulu on Right

Nine years was not nearly enough.  

No More Puppy Kisses For Me

Goodbye, my sweet Baboo!  We will never forget you.