Dianne and I had a special friendship. The kind that is borne from being a stay-at-home mom with babies, toddlers and preschoolers, where you consider yourself lucky if you can find one kindred spirit, one other mom with whom you can share your heart, your soul, and as many laughs as you can afford. We shared so many adventures, and now that she's gone, there are stories too many to count. Twenty years after her death, Dianne's stepmother, Linda, and daughter, Jasmine, were going through a box of sewing projects that Linda had stashed away. They came across "the infamous shirt-and-tie-quilt," a quilt that Dianne was working on while she was fighting her last battle with cancer. No one liked the quilt, not even Dianne. Especially not Dianne. "All she did was complain about that quilt," Jasmine told me. "We all got tired of hearing about how much she hated the stupid shirt-and-tie-quilt." No one wanted the quilt, not even Dianne's husband, fo...
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