A Special Gift – It Only Took 27 Years

By Margie Taylor

January 1, 1984 was the worst day of my life. That morning at 3:30 a knock on my front door jolted me from a deep sleep. I reached for my robe and answered the door. Standing on the porch was a State Highway patrolman and the County Assistant Coroner. They introduced themselves and asked if they could come in. Once inside they informed me my only son, James Robert Jumper, Jr. “Jimmy” had been in an automobile accident and had not survived. He was only 20 years old. I was overcome with shock and denial. Words cannot describe how it feels to be awakened in the early morning hours by a state trooper with the news your child has been killed in a traffic accident. A mother’s shock, pain and grief from losing a child, is something that cannot be explained or understood by anyone who has never experienced such a tragedy. The State Newspaper reported that he was the first traffic fatality that year in South Carolina. It was three years before I began to feel almost normal again.

After the accident I desperately clung to everything that was a part of Jimmy. I kept his wallet, glasses, some letters, and especially his clothes. Years went by and I began to consider donating his clothes to charity, but simply could not bring myself to do it. One day while visiting with a good friend, she told me she had started quilt-making classes and had joined a quilting group. I did not think much about that at the time, but later it occurred to me that maybe she would be interested in making a quilt from Jimmy’s clothes. I had kept them for so long and wanted to do something that would allow me to have a small part of Jimmy to comfort me in later years. When I asked her she immediately agreed that she would like to make the quilt and sounded excited about it. She had also known Jimmy and thought it was a great idea. I felt relieved that finally something worthwhile would be done with Jimmy’s clothes.

Time slipped by and before I knew it more years had passed, but my friend never asked for the clothes to make the quilt. Eventually I began to feel once more that it was time to do something with the clothes. I loaded them in the car and headed toward the Goodwill store. Along the way doubt began to creep into my heart again, and I decided that I should ask my friend whether she was still interested in making the quilt. I turned around, came home and called her. She told me she wanted to make the quilt and not to donate the clothes. Back on the shelf went the clothes and for many more years that is where they stayed. My friend had good intentions but simply never seemed to be able to find the time to start the quilt.

In November 2010 my daughter, Cindy, my only other child came home from Chapel Hill for a weekend visit. During one of our many mother-daughter chats the subject of Jimmy’s clothes came up and what we should do with them. We agreed after so long it was unlikely my friend would ever get around to making the quilt. With excitement in her voice, Cindy told me her next-door neighbor Bobbi was a quilter. At once I asked her if she thought Bobbi would be interested in making my quilt. I told Cindy that I would gladly pay her and didn’t care how fancy it was – just squares sewn together and a back would be fine with me. Cindy called and Bobbi agreed to make the quilt. She even sounded enthusiastic about it. We boxed the clothes up one last time and Cindy took them home. Early in January 2011, she called to tell me that Bobbi had started the quilt. I was thrilled that at last his clothes would be made into something that I could keep forever.

My husband and I went to Chapel Hill for a weekend visit with Cindy and her family in May 2011. Early the next morning on Mother’s Day, Cindy gave me a pack of tissues and a card. She had written a message on the card, which brought tears of happiness as well as sadness. Happiness from such a loving message, but sadness that Jimmy, her brother and my son, could not be with us. Then she reached behind the counter and bought out a bag. From the bag she took out a quilt. It was my quilt. I could not control the rush of emotions as memories of Jimmy overcame me. Through my tears, one by one, I picked out pieces of his clothes on the quilt sewn into a beautiful never-ending diamond pattern. Turning the quilt over we found designs of things that Jimmy loved stitched into the back. Bobbi had sewn figures into the quilt of a go-cart, a bicycle, a baseball and baseball hat, a tent, a boat, and lots and lots of hearts. There was also a holly leaf because Jimmy had always loved a girl named Holly ever since they were in the first grade.

It was all so overwhelming with tons of tears shed from happiness. Then to my surprise Cindy brought out another quilt. Bobbi had secretly made two identical quilts from Jimmy’s clothes. The second quilt was for Cindy, who has two children, my only grandchildren. Having two quilts meant each of them could one day have a quilt in memory of their uncle Jimmy, who they never had the chance to know. I never dreamed that the quilt would be so beautiful, and have such special meaning. After 27 years of saving his clothes, I will be able to leave something to my grandchildren, which is priceless to me. Bobbi refused to take any money for our gifts, saying she just wanted to see me cry. It was truly a gift of love.

Margie worked for the County of Lexington, Lexington Medical Center, and Town of Lexington before she retired in 2006. She founded and was the Chapter Leader of The Compassionate Friends support group in Columbia for four years. She does public speaking part-time and volunteers at Lexington Interfaith Community Services. She resides in Lexington, SC.

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