The Sacred Quilt: A Short Story

These short stories are about spiritual things that have happened to me. I was born in 1951, and grew up in a home that had some mental issues, which did not show up to me until I was older. I am also a recovering alcoholic. I sobered up September 3rd, 1995. I have had many spiritual experiences since I sobered up. The short stories, I will tell them, as good as I can remember them. Also, I must say, in May of 2012, I had a slight heart attack, and my heart quit for a short spell. I had a glimpse of the next realm during that spell. The first short story will be what I call the Sacred Quilt.

In April 2017, I was diagnosed with stage 4 lung cancer. My prognosis is good, and I am recovering. In June, one of my best friends made a quilt for

She had a smile on her face and said, “You know, my husband and I love you, so I made this quilt for you and put love in every stitch.” My mind went crazy. It was like a rabbit in a small cage, bouncing off the walls. I didn’t know what was happening. But I blurted out, “I can’t take the quilt. My mother used to make me quilts.” I had to get out of there, and I didn’t want to offend her. I don’t know exactly how I did it, but I got out of the church. I went home, and spent that afternoon figuring out what had happened. Then, I found the key. My mother, who had emotionally abused me and my sister, would make quilts to do something nice for us. I compare the abuse to cross-threading a bolt into someone’s brain. You can only tighten it so much, and then you must be careful not to break it, you only get one chance on a brain, so you must have some grease or something sweet so you can do more abuse. So it came to me, that when she made a quilt and gave it to me, that was the sweetness, or grease on the bolt. Then I remembered when she would give me a quilt she would say, “I made this for you and I put love in every stitch.” Then

I called her son to see if I should come and visit. He checked and called me back, and said yes, I should come. When I got to the house, the son came and took me into the bedroom, and I sat by her side and held her hand. Her husband was sitting on the other side of the bed, and her son was standing there. As I held her hand, I talked to her about when my heart had quit, and how I felt when I came back, that I had been in a better place, and would have been happy to stay there. Then I said to her, I know you will beat me there, and you know how much I like to ride my motorcycle, so would keep a place for me to park my bike? Her husband chuckled, and I said goodbye to her as I walked out the daughter-in-law thanked me for coming and the husband came out and thanked me too for coming. A few days later was the viewing at the funeral home, and I walked in and gave my respects to her. Then I turned, and saw her son and daughter-in-law, and talked to them, and saw the grandson sitting behind me with his hands folded and his head down, I asked his mother how he he was doing. She said he was taking it hard. I said “Would it be okay if I talked to him?’ She said “Yes, that would be fine”. I sat down by him and asked him about school, and what he wanted to do in life. He said he wanted to do STEM. I said “That should be good helping other people”. Then I told him about