I’m kind of on an emotional roller coaster these days, as the holiday season approaches and memories of my mom keep invading my head. And don’t even get me started on all the dreams I’ve been having lately.
The first Christmas without my mom. Pretty much from the year my parents moved from California to Washington, a year after Warren, Robin and I moved to BC, I’ve had them here at my house for Christmas. For the first 5 years it was both of them, then my dad passed away. It was a huge adjustment for my family and we missed him so much.
Mom would still come up here for Christmas; we’d attend the kids’ concerts, plan dinners and baking. She’d gamely play with the kids while I did last minute shopping and wrapping. It’s just the way it was. Then a couple of years ago she had a few health setbacks and it was hard for her to come up for Christmas so she’d stay at home. It was very strange not to have her here and not normal, but we’d call and talk. She was there. But this year…..
Yesterday I was tidying up my knitting area in my room, putting away a plethora of needles that had scattered around the house, small balls of yarn left over from various projects that are too precious to throw away, putting all those loose sheets of paper with various patterns printed on them into a central location. Very satisfying type of organizing. As I was doing all this puttering around, I came across something I’ve been avoiding these last 3 months.
My mom was knitting me an afghan. She had knit one for my sister and now it was my turn. We went to Michael’s and picked out 6 skeins of Lion Brand Homespun and she took them home and started to knit for me. She had half a skein to go when she died. She was halfway across a row and had put those little nibs on the end of the needle to keep the stitches from coming off until she came back to it. But she didn’t.
I brought this home with me after we emptied out her apartment and I could barely look at it. It hurt too much to see it. I put it aside, glanced at it every now and then and would say to myself, “nope, not yet.” Well, yesterday I decided it was time to face it. She had worked so hard on it, all her even and perfect stitches. The idea of it just sitting in a bag in the corner of the room was suddenly horrible to me. So I got it out and finished it off last night. I sewed in all her ends, and then wrapped myself up in it —— It feels comforting.