Grief blanket

I know I said I didn’t want to turn this into a grief blog, but it’s okay because this post is really about knitting.

I taught myself to knit in college, because I had a broken heart and wanted something to distract me. My knitting and I were inseparable for years–up until I had kids and time with my hands free ceased to be a thing that existed. For a long time I tried to do “small projects,” like hats and scarves, but it turned out that I found small projects boring and would never finish them. Also, I never wear hats or scarves.

These days, pain is more of a problem than time. Every joint in my hands is hypermobile (what we used to call double-jointed). This leaves me prone to tendinitis, arthritis, carpal and ulnar tunnel syndromes, and general pain. I’ll never be able to knit the way I did in my 20s. Tiny needles, cabling, stranded knitting, and other complicated techniques are probably outside my range now. I have to use special needles that are easier for my hands to grip. I have to stop and rest after every row. I have to limit how much I do in a sitting, and sometimes take a day or two off.

The thumb joints on my left hand are the worst, and I’ve been trying out different braces. So far what works best is this combination of thumb cmc brace (the PUSH MetaGrip is the most comfortable one I’ve tried) and an Oval-8 ring splint. They create their own problems, because they dig into and rub against my skin as I’m working, but they seem to be preventing the really intense thumb pain that sometimes comes the day after I work too much.

On to the grief blanket!

This is another kit from Annie’s kit club, the Knit Striped Afghan. Like the crochet mandala, it’s a sampler and you’re switching stitches every couple of inches. I’m doing the plumberry colorway, which is my favorite and coincidentally some of my sister’s favorite colors.. I had actually already signed up for it before my sister died, but I was neglecting it because the crochet mandala blanket has been consuming all my time.

When I first learned my sister was in the hospital and I flew up to Portland to be nearby, I knew I was going to need a distraction. So I filled my suitcase with all the yarn that had been arriving for this blanket and brought it with me.

30 hours later, my sister was dead.

Now it’s my grief blanket. It’s a way of marking time, of remembering that time is still passing, no matter how slow it feels. And as time passes, it will transform my grief into something that will be easier to bear. By the time I finish this blanket, I will be in a different place. I will be a different person, one who has adapted to life without my sister in it. So sitting down and picking it up is a practice of faith, that things will get better, and that all I have to do is string the moments together between now and then.

I don’t know how long it will take to finish it. I keep it in Portland, and I’m only there part-time. And, like I said, I can’t work very fast or very long. But someday, it will be finished, with all my love and grief and patience and faith worked into it.