I’ve never really doubted the value of knitting. But if I had, going through Dad’s death would have dispelled the doubt forever.
When I flew up to Sydney to the hospital I took a half-finished sock and one ball of Opal sock wool. And during the long days by his bed, in waiting rooms and the all-too-familiar cafe my mother and me knitted.
I kept on with my sock, and she, coming back to knitting after many years away doing other crafts, started on the matching sock. I used the yarn from the outside of the ball; she used the yarn from the inside of the ball. And this one ball of pink and orange sock wool kept us going for days. Through awful stress and worry, right up to the morning of his death when we sat in the intensive care waiting room at 5am as the machines were turned off.
The hospital too had no doubts about the value of knitting because the waiting room had its own basket of wool and needles with an invitation to others stuck in that horrid limbo to start a “square”.
Neither did the old woman we encountered in a walk round the hospital parking area one day, sitting on her zimmer frame contraption knitting away like queen of all she surveyed.
I’m 80, how old are you, dear?
she asked peering at my mother, as if anyone not yet 80, and most especially anyone not knitting, was not to be taken seriously. “I never go anywhere without my knitting,” she confided, before leaping off her toadstool to uncover her stash under the seat and telling us the pattern of the squares she was knitting for Africa.
What is it about knitting, especially in hospitals?
Readers may have their own ideas, and if you do I’d love to hear them. For mine, it’s about the simple, rhythmic movement; the repetition; the tiny sense of accomplishment at the end of a row; and the lulling, affirming effect of this on the spirit.
As my mother said,
I don’t know how I would have got through it without the knitting.
*****
Thank you to all for your messages on my father’s death. I appreciated them very much.
what a great way to reconnect with your mom. I found walking a rythmic way to be with friends and family when my Dad was dying Logical thought is not at all helpful in these times I have since realised
I am about to leave for Queensland, taking articles to read and things to catch up on so as to clear some space Thought about doing tax but that feels like work. Too much intensity in my job at present
Have a great break x
What a symbolic image, that of you and your mom knitting from the same ball.
My friend Lisa, a knitter for 40 years, taught me to knit three years ago.
This summer, during which so much has happened in my life, she knitted me a little yellow Labrador retriever, which she named the Knitted Dinah.
I was so taken with the gesture (and the photo) that I made her my gravatar.
Reading your blog, on writing and knitting, reminds me to pick up the needles again.
Thank you.
… and I thought it was a real dog! How cute. What a lovely gift from your friend. And so wonderful she taught you to knit. I get excited knowing someone else is discovering its joys. Shall catch up on what’s been happening in your life with a big old read on your blog. Thanks again for your words, Cheri.
I love knitting its slows down my mind and i become still on the inside. Its a very zen like state of being totally in the present, calm, at peace but expansive because of the beauty of the wool, the rythm of the work, the feel of it in your hands and in the movements.
I stopped knitting a few months ago when I started making some baby quilts with some freinds. Now i am making my w own quilt by the dame english hand peiceing method using small hexagons and I find a similar peace with this.
I would love to joing your sock project but am a beginning knitter so the socks would have to be easy :)
Hi Julieanne, “at peace but expansive” is a great description. Exactly how i feel too when I’m knitting. My mum makes hexagon quilts too.