There was a dark blue and green scarf on my mother's bed in the nursing home. I have never seen this particular item. "Oh, Karen Richarda made this for me," Mom said. I took a soft, warm scarf. Just then, a nurse came in and said that a transport had arrived to take my mother to the hospital. From there it goes to the hospice. In the months that followed, every time I visited her, I had to sort my scarf. And finally the day came when we decided on the final outfit. I considered putting the scarf in her coffin. The phone rang and it was a friend who told me that my mother had asked for the green and white plaid I had given her many, many years ago to bury with her. The scarf seemed destined to be mine. A few years later I looked at someone's copy of The Prayer Handkerchief Companion. Page 149 stopped me. I contacted cousin Karen. Yes, it is true. Since then, I have found myself handing out prayer shawls to those I know with terminal illnesses, praying that they will be as comforted as I am.