Pat's Heart
Date: July 26, 2004

When Norma called with her offer, I expected a lovely quilt or two that could be shared with our smallest patients in Floyd’s Neonatal Intensive Care Unit. When she knocked on my door, her arms loaded with beautifully stitched quilts, I discovered a wonderful lady whose special heart touched my own in a way I had not expected.

For 44 years, Norma devoted herself to the care of her daughter, Pat, who was born with Down Syndrome. Pat was the light of her mother’s life. Pat and Norma filled their days and built cherished memories making crafts of all kinds. The simple whatnots, made of glue, beads, cloth and paint, gave them both a sense of pride and accomplishment, and their home was a testament to their work. Every shelf and wall brims with the handiwork of this mother and daughter team crafted together year after year through hot summer days and long winter nights.

Pat especially enjoyed the Christmas ornaments that filled their evergreen tree. From heralds of warm holiday wishes to reminders of a long-ago manger, she and her mom filled their home with the spirit of Christmas long before autumn leaves ever turned.

Norma tells the story that she and Pat would begin to decorate their home for Christmas right after Halloween. It took a while, Norma explained, because Pat had a special routine that she liked to follow. Pat would hang one ornament in just the right place on the family Christmas tree and then, in her characteristic shy whisper, she would sing through her favorite carol, “Jingle Bells.” Then, and only then, could the next ornament be hung.

It took equally as long to open all the Christmas gifts, Norma said. Pat knew that no wrapped gifts under the tree meant the tree soon would come down.

“She knew the Christmas tree was going away, so it kind of dragged out the opening of Christmas gifts,” Norma said.

Christmastime is a bit lonelier now. Pat passed away about two years ago, leaving a void where Norma had found so much joy in her special daughter. But, women like Norma aren’t the kind to sit back in retirement, no matter how well deserved.

Instead, she acknowledged she needed to look for ways to fill her days, and, guided by her memories of Pat, Norma returned to her crafts.

“It took about two years to get to that point,” Norma said. “When you have had somebody for 44 years, 24/7, it’s hard to change your life and what you are doing. Pat is in a better place, and my grieving does not do her any good. I felt like I needed to do something to honor her as a tribute to her.”

Norma chose to make quilts, finding therapy in the details of needlework. As she stitched the intricate designs, she began to see her work as a mission. With no need to keep the growing stack of baby-sized quilts, Norma hit upon an idea: Why not donate the quilts to babies and young mothers who might take comfort in having a warm and soft quilt in which to snuggle?

Pat, born at Floyd Medical Center, had required special care as an infant, and donating the quilts to Floyd Medical Center’s nurseries and pediatric patients seemed a perfect solution.

Those quilts will go to Floyd’s tiniest patients and to sick children on our pediatrics unit, giving comfort and a bit of security to patients and parents at a time when they need a little something extra on which to hold.

When Norma told her friend Linda Walraven of her plan, she found an unsolicited helper, and it was both women who knocked on my door not long ago.

Norma, carrying her bundle of quilts, shared with me her story and then pointed out a special bit of quilting in the corner of one of her creations. There, almost imperceptibly stitched, is a small heart with the name “Pat” embroidered carefully inside.

Norma said she had considered enclosing a card with each quilt, explaining just how generous, loving and special Pat had been and how she hoped each quilt would be just as special, but in the end, Norma decided against a card.

Norma said she doesn’t want any special attention for her quilts.

“This is between me, God and Pat,” she said.

A simple heart, she said, says it all. Pat’s heart was as big as all outdoors, and Norma and Linda pour their hearts into each quilt they make.

The gift, Norma said, is not the quilt; it’s the reminder of Pat that each covering bears. Now, each patient who receives one of these special quilts will take a part of Pat’s heart with them, stitched with love with the practiced hands of Pat’s greatest fans.

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