Pieces Of Pops

I knew the day I stood in my dad’s closet for the last time that I would want to create something with his shirts.
My dad was such a simple man, but his shirts were as much a part of him as his personality.

Whether it was a Yankees jersey he would put on for good luck during a pivotal game, his everyday button downs, the golf shirts my sister would get every year for him from the tournaments at TPC or the special “pops shirts” he would wear on family vacations, every look was such a part of who he was.

I asked my mom if it would be ok if I gathered the ones that were the most frequent in his rotation. I put those shirts in a box 2.5 years ago, sealed the box, and didn’t open it until about 3 months ago.
It took me a couple days to recover from opening the box because the smell of him combined with the memories of him wearing each one was overwhelming.

The grieving process is very much a process of waves. High and low tides as time moves forward. What I experienced with my dad’s shirts was a perfect example of those waves.

I opened the box and began the process of creation. I decided the project would be pillows and I decided this year would be the year we needed them.

My brother got married days before Christmas this year so our family was reminded of the ever present void as we celebrated a beautiful love among us. I wanted us to have a tangible piece of him this year for some reason.

I began by disassembling each shirt into it’s four main pieces. Front, back, two sleeves.
I was reminded of how he had become so many versions of himself over time. Some shirts were so much larger than others, as he essentially became the smallest and most frail version the last few years of his life.

One night I put a front panel of a button down on the table in front of me and decided that would be the back of the pillow and I would use the functionality of the buttons to put the pillow forms in. This step was the jumping off point of the design.

I set aside those panels for each pillow and moved on to the sleeves. All of the shirts were short sleeved so I had a pile of the same size sleeve panels. I decided to use those to make patchwork squares that I would then mix and match across multiple pillows.

It wasn’t until I truly began to lay out each square that I realized each of these pillows would truly become it’s own individual story based on who was going to receive it. My love affair with this project officially began.

My mom’s was simple. It was his favorites, combined with a shirt she had bought for all of use one year for Christmas that said “Team Brenner Lifetime Member”. It came together quickly and I never once thought about changing a single thing about it.
Next were my brothers. My brothers shared my dad’s love for the New York Yankees and Notre Dame football, which was perfect because he had jerseys for each.

My sister’s was simple because hers would be patches of each of the Deutsche Bank Golf tournament shirts she had given him over the years. So that was easy.

My boys was also easy because they have both created the phrase “pops shirts” based on all of the various Hawaiian shirts and fun patterns my dad wore on family vacations. Ty’s would also include the tie I gave to him on his first Father’s Day as a grandfather with pictures of his first grandchild on it.

The creativity of the project was simple for me. The execution required dusting off some of my skills. It had been a minute since I had spent some quality time with my sewing machine so it took us a minute to get reacquainted.

Thread and bobbins and different types of fabric weights tried to challenge me. I wouldn’t weaken.
I got a wild hair to use piping to add a beautiful finished look to the edges. I spent 2.5 hours teaching myself how to attach piping to a pillow. YouTube videos, searching for my zipper foot, reminding myself how to use said zipper foot, you name it, I was all on on piping.
Until I slowly and methodically attached piping to my sister’s pillow…..incorrectly. The speed with which tears exploded from my eyes upon realizing I had done so was surprising even to me. The length of time it took me to undo my mistake wasn’t as quick.
One night I was working and realized there was blood coming from somewhere. I immediately checked my hands and nothing was bleeding. It took a second for me to realize that I had somehow cut my elbow with my rotary cutter. My elbow. How on EARTH does someone cut their ELBOW without realizing it?!

I did a lot of math and I made a lot of “executive decisions” for certain details to be “good enough” based on that math.
I heard my sewing teacher’s voice in my ear a number of times, and I felt my dad’s energy around me constantly.

And this afternoon, I finally was able to present this labor of love to the ones who mean the most to me.

A tiny piece of him we all can have forever. His smell still on the fabric. That part being so initially difficult for me and becoming the most comforting gift each day I worked with the pieces.

There is a hole in our family, and we find new ways together to never allow it to swallow us. We talk about him constantly. We still love him so deeply and so completely that his light guides our family even in his absence.

But today each of us has a small piece of him to hold onto. Forever.