I debated whether or not I wanted to mention what had transpired these past few weeks on this here blog. Typically, I'm not one for eliciting sympathy or sharing deeply personal life events on my knitting blog. But, in this instance, I felt I should make an exception.
My beloved Granny passed away last Sunday evening.
Previously she had been hospitalized for a week due to a massive stroke.
This is why I haven't felt like posting, despite the fact that there had been quite a bit of knitting during those long hospital stays.
I felt I should mention it because I've talked about Granny before on this blog and in emails to many of you. Plus, knitting was a significant aspect of the last few days I spent with her.
As you can see, the Spey Valley Socks are finished. They came to completion -- along with the Jaywalkers -- while I sat knitting by Granny's bedside. There were long periods where she would nap, and the knitting served to calm my anxiety and helped me focus on the here-and-now.
I know that sounds a bit flaky, but it's true.
When anxious, my thoughts tend to scatter. My mind races, thinking ahead and trying to figure out solutions to problems which haven't yet and may not occur. Knitting helps anchor me and keeps me in the moment. It helped me stay present during the last week of her life.
In fact, the day before she took a turn for the worse, I was on the last row of the Spey Valley Socks. I held them up for her to see and handle and she stated in no uncertain terms that she wanted a pair just like them -- same color, same yarn -- for her next pair of socks.
I took note.
Granny always knew exactly what she wanted and how she wanted it. And she made sure we all knew about it.
She was what you'd call a "Spitfire." ;-)
In any case, she passed before I could knit her another pair, so the pair you see here is now with Granny. It's mostly symbolic and mostly to make me feel better. Knowing those socks are with her provides enormous comfort.
Granny wasn't a knitter. Instead she preferred The Hook, as I like to call it. Crochet was her drug of choice for expression. She made gorgeous items, using no written pattern. She'd just look at an image for inspiration, cast on and hook herself, myself and many others, beautiful, lovingly crafted items. One of the last things she made sure to tell me was where her bag of crocheted items (for future babies) was stored.
In fact, she died wearing her pink shawl, one of the last items she crocheted before arthritis struck. It sits on the corner of my bed.
Rest In Peace Granny.