Body, Mind, Spirit Magazine


By Anytimeyoga @anytimeyoga

I am crocheting when I get the call.

“I almost froze to death last night,” my grandmother had declared when I visited her last week.

I had taken it to mean that the air conditioning in her nursing facility was turned up pretty high. Even before the strokes, she’d had a habit of exaggerating. And I know that while there were sufficient blankets on her bed, mobility issues made it difficult to navigate sleeves — and speech issues made it difficult to find the words she wanted in the moment.

“I’m thinking she could use a shawl,” my brother told me a moment later. “But I’m not even sure where you’d find one now.”

“I have a crochet pattern at home. I can make one.”

So I started. The pattern makes for a finished shawl that’s soft and flexible but still strong. The yarn is a lovely teal, maybe more my color than Grandma’s. But there’s something to be said for leaving my mark and what I’m making — and besides, it’s not like Grandma dislikes teal. I even bought some novelty yarn — with sparkles — to use as edging.

And then the call.

She died this morning.

The shawl is halfway finished.

After all the immediate reactions — absorbing the news, telling people, searching online airfares, calling about bereavement airfares, making plans for yet another absence so soon after becoming present — I look at it.

My first instinct is to unravel the whole piece and get rid of the yarn. She’ll never wear it now.

My second is to finish it anyway.

Third is to not think about it now, to just put all the yarn away for a while. I’ll pick up this yarn again in a year or two, maybe, when it doesn’t mean the same things as it does now.

But the desire remains to make something, to do something with this yarn. But maybe not this project. Maybe something new.

I unravel and start again.


Back to Featured Articles on Logo Paperblog