Before I began making quilts we lost a baby grandson. My daughter took her older son's quilt, made by a close friend, and other tiny trinkets (grandmother's small cross, a crystal birthday candle holder from a very dear friend, etc.) and put them in a box the size of the casket her husband was making with a cousin. (Kubler-Ross says the more you do the better you feel later when you lose a child.) The quilt was the most significant thing since it was the one thing that could be seen, although her husband and my sister were the only ones who saw the baby after the autopsy (required to help medical research find a cure for what killed the child) nestled in that quilt. My sister said it was beautiful (in a very sad way)! The quilt was such a comfort to my daughter (makes me cry as I write this!). It may have been what started me quilting since I did start right after that. And the friend who made the first quilt sent a new quilt to her when she heard that the first one was now "gone". There can be magic in quilts, and I think it is called "love".