It is now the end of August, and I have a mere few rows and a bind-off to complete Jill’s Wrap. This project has been with me all summer, and through it I have grieved for my friend. I am finding myself reluctant to finish. I am not through grieving. And I am not ready to let such a physical reminder of my friend go, even though it would be such a comfort to her mother. Jill passed away the Wednesday after Mother’s Day, with less than an eighth of the wrap finished. I have been working on it on and off since then.
How do we let go of the things that mean so much to us? How do we let part of our lives drift away, no longer connected, no longer with us– no longer PART of us? I know Jill will always be part of me, but she is not in my daily life any more. I have no idea how to let go. Her birthday was last week. It was a melancholy day. I wrote a card to her mom and it is still sitting on my coffee table, unsent, irrelevant now. Perhaps it was to raw and soul-baring for me to deal with. I don’ t know.
Knitting helps me deal with the trials of life in a way that no other activity does. I have turned to knitting time and again when I have felt upset, or angry, or sad. I have leaned on it like a crutch for years. Each time I have found out that someone else in the world is pregnant, I have started a new project. Each of my close friends have received bundles of hand-knit goods upon the arrival of their little ones, and their second, and even third. Now, in a rather therapeutic manner, I have started kniting my own little baby things, in hopes for the future (and no I am not pregnant).
What other ways will I turn to this activity in the future? Time will tell. I do need to finish that wrap though. It’s high time that project begins it’s therapeutic journey with someone else.