I spent the last two months getting ready for being a vendor at Paducah. I’d heard wonderful things about the town and its residents from other quilting vendors, so I was excited to learn I’d gotten a premium booth with Susan Edwards at Wildhair Studios, just one block from the National Quilt Museum.
Richard, a friend and fellow quilter and watercolor artist, spent days cutting and assembling jelly rolls, charm packs, and fat quarter bundles for me. I was furiously printing patterns from my Color-of-the-Month series, making hotel accommodations, and packing my van. I was ready.
I arrived on Friday, set up on Saturday, with much help from Diane and Lowell Cook of Details by Diane. They were generous with their time and would later become so important to me. Susan set up her t-shirt booth in the back of her store, and Betty of Village Mercantile set up a mini-quilt shop in her booth.
Traffic was slow before the show, and while it increased through the week, estimates from other, more experienced vendors than I were that attendance was down by 1/3. The AQS show was uncrowded, restaurants had empty tables, and the streets of Paducah looked like tumbleweeds should be blowing through.
Then on Tuesday morning my husband woke me up with a 6:30a.m. phone call, starting with the words, “I’ve got some bad news.” It was too early for me to recognize how grave he was, but he continued to tell me one of my best friends, Virginia, had passed away unexpectedly. Virginia was 41 years old, was a nurse who worked in a hospital everyday, and was diligent about her healthcare. She was afraid of dying young, because both of her parents had passed away at a young age. We met in childbirth class when we were both pregnant with our first child: we both had sons, who were best friends.
Virginia was a devoted friend to me at the awkward times in life when most people don’t know what to say, so they say nothing, something entirely wrong, or they just avoid you altogether. When I had my first miscarriage, Virginia took care of me and comforted me. When my mother passed away, Virginia flew out from Colorado with her kids and visited me, again comforting me. When I was told I had to have surgery, and she was too many states away to visit, she sent me a care package. I sent my son on his first solo airplane flight to visit Virginia and her family.
I couldn’t believe what David was telling me. How could it have happened? I got a speeding ticket driving to the store that morning. I couldn’t focus on anything the rest of the week. I broke down into tears after a customer said “life is too short for me to complain about my wife buying fabric.” Poor man, he was just making conversation and this crazy woman from Georgia starts sobbing. Susan’s husband Robert hugged me, and Diane and Lowell were wonderful with their Christian love and support.
On the last day of vending, Saturday, I felt like things were getting back to normal for me. I talked with Virginia’s ex-husband and her memorial service wouldn’t be until next week, so I still had time to attend. I talked with my kids and husband: my older son was barely awake after an all-night lock-in with his youth group. Life was normal – good, uneventful, normal.
Then my husband called me 30 minutes later to tell me my older son was being rushed to the hospital. I asked him repeatedly to explain, because I couldn’t register what was happening. He was frantic and couldn’t really tell me much. All I knew was that my son was ill, being transported by ambulance to a hospital, and I wasn’t there. I couldn’t hold his hand, tell him he would be okay. I wasn’t there.
Again, Diane, Lowell, and Robert came to my rescue. And my friend Pat, who drove from Georgia to stay with me and help me in my booth. Again I was crying in Paducah, and again they comforted with hugs, words, and actions. They packed my booth and my car in 10 minutes. I drove through severe thunderstorms, tornadoes, and hail to get to my son.
He was fine, but shaken. His younger brother hugged him a bit tighter, as did we all.
So, Paducah next year? I can’t even think about it. All I know right now is I will never again talk to Virginia, and I can’t make sense of that. I miss her, and I ache for her son and daughter, 14 and 12. Life will never be the same for them, or for me either.
Maria, I can’t even imagine what you are going through. I am sorry for your loss and will remember you in thoughts and prayers.
Annette
Oh Maria, I am so sorry for you, & your friends’ family. Life just doesn’t make sense sometimes.
Know that you are in my thoughts….{{{{{{HUGS}}}}}}
Don’t know what else to say except “I’m so sorry”…
Maria,
My heart aches for you. I’ve been watching your blog for weeks trying to glean some of your color awareness and right now have tears in my eyes. I’m so sorry you’re going through this. Peace be with you.
Kathy
Dear Maria I read with tears in my eyes about your trip to Puducah, I am so sorry to here about your dear friend some things in life don’t seem fair but God always has a reason to take someone to be with him. I know these words don’t always help just know that I will keep you and your family in my prayers and also Virginia and her family. I hope that your son is doing alright. Love and blessings Sandra
My heart aches for you. My friend died two weeks ago so I can identify with your grief. Your week at Paducah definitely was not what you imagined but I am thankful you were surrounded by wonderful supportive people.
Maria, I know how you feel as I to lost a best friend years ago but it seems like yesterday, she was only 48 and left 3 kids. God will get you and her family through this. God bless you and her family.
I’m so sorry for your loss. Virginia sounds like she was a wonderful friend. As life goes on, I hope you will find ways to celebrate the memory of your friend. May time speed your healing.
I don’t know you. You don’t know me. But I landed on your blog and my heart cried. Praying for you, your family and Virginia’s family.
i am sorry to hear such a wonderful and exciting experience turned into not so much. i hope you arrived home to find a few things settled down. we are all blessed to be surrounded by those who support us. you were lucky to have them there to help you through the experiences of life.
Maria! I had no idea you were carrying such a burden when we visited in your booth. I’m so sorry for your loss and for Virginia’s family. You really had a rough week! I can’t imagine driving home saddened by your loss and worried about your son. What a horrible week you had.
I thought the crowds at the show and certainly in the pavillion were as much as ever but there were empty rooms at the state park where we stay and that never happens. Restaurants were easy to find seating. Downtown streets really seemed empty compared to previous years. I had not heard attendance estimates but it did seem down.
It’s a long time til next year and I’m confident you will make the right decision about vending or not vending next year. You don’t have to decide right now, do you?
Maria, my heart goes out to you in your grief. I’ve experienced too much of that in my life in recent years, to include the death of my husband of over 40 years. It is something you don’t “get over” but instead “go through” as life goes on. One needs faith, God, prayers, love of friends and family, and strength at such times. I am only happy that your son is doing okay. And sorry that your trip to AQS wasn’t at all the fun time you expected. You’ll be in my prayers, for sure. Take care . . .
Maria – You brought me to tears. I can’t imagine how you made it through the show. It sounds like you lost a wonderful friend who was there for you and now you can be there for her family. Stay strong.
Maria, I am so sorry that your week turned out so differently from expected and for the loss of your friend. I lunched today with two of my good friends and I can’t imagine waking to the news that one of them had died. Wishing a speedy recovery for your son and a comforting week for you. Best wishes,
Gayle
I am so thankful to hear that you son is okay. And I am so sorry to hear of the death of your dear friend at such an early age. Thankfully you had wonderful people to support you in Paducah. Bless them. In the last year both of my children (19 & 15) suffered near-death illnesses but, thank God, both lived through them. All I can say is that yes, life is too short to complain about most anything, and that faith and prayer and supportive friends/family are what give us strength to keep on. Peace be to you.
Maria, day to check blogs and I ran across yours. Sorry to hear about the trip to Paducah filled with life’s sad moments. Glad you had people around who were comforting to you. Take care of yourself.
Thank you to everyone for your kind thoughts and sincere prayers, which supported me during my difficult time. What’s that proverb? Men plan and God laughs. Then women rush in with casseroles. (Ok, that last part is mine!)
Hi Maria,
I am sorry to hear about your loss. I was in Paducah too and I saw you at a shop doing book signings, I was going to stop but I had laryngitis and so I couldn’t do much or even really say hi. It was a crazy week for me too but again – I am sorry that you lost your friend, she is waiting for you in heaven. My condolences to her family and children.
I’m so sorry for the loss of your dear friend! Thinking of you and of her family!