My Grandpa is sick. It sucks that he's sick. It sucks that his current treatment plan focuses on keeping him comfortable. It sucks that I live 2,000 miles away and can't visit with him on a regular basis.
It. All. Just. Sucks.
If I were any closer, I'd be there in a heartbeat and our visit would be much like our last - we'd sit quietly together and talk, and he'd doze for a bit, and then we'd talk and reminisce some more. And I'd sneak him some verboten candies when Granny wasn't looking
But I don't live closer and I can't be there again, and I'm feeling quite helpless about it all. My first instinct [as a Jewish woman] is to cook, which is, in this instance, pointless. My next instinct, which kicked in late in the game, was to quilt.
So I made this for him this weekend. It's modern and he's not. I made it in his Alma Mater's colors of scarlet and grey, only remembering after the whole thing was quilted that he's red-green color blind; it'll probably look like a big brown blob to him. He might not love the aesthetics of it. He doesn't really have to. He just needs to know that it was made especially for him - that I labored over every creative decision to make it worthy of the man that he is.
I hope it keeps his body warm. I hope it keeps his heart warm. I hope he knows how much I love him.