One of the places my mom loved most was her sewing room. It was just a little room, tucked away at the end of the hallway, a place too small for much more than a desk where she could put her sewing machine, and a closet where she could put all her projects. When we were kids, I often came home from school to find her in there. She taught me how to sew in that room. When she died, we closed the door of the sewing room. I mean, sure, every once in a while my sister or I would go in there to get a needle and thread,…