Thank you to everyone for your support to me during this very difficult time. Thank you for understanding the missed newsletters and the postponed classes. And thank you for your cards, thoughts, prayers, and presence. As most of you know, my mom was admitted to the hospital on January 31st, and released to Hospice House February 9th where she entered into eternal life on February 12th. Although my mom lived with us for many years, and I obviously saw her for at least a few minutes every day, when she was in the hospital, she needed me there most of every day, as she and the doctors struggled with how to handle her multiple chronic conditions, and to hear and interpret what the doctors were saying but not telling her.
She was weak, but alert and very much wanted to talk. LIke many extroverts, talking was how she processed things. She talked about the past, about her time in New York, about her parents, and about my father and his passing 15 years ago. Which led to her talking about her own passing. All this, she needed to say, and she needed me to hear. And so, I sat, and listened, and knit.
Never before have I realized just what a gift those needles and yarn could be. To me, certainly, as the comfortable and familiar rhythm calmed and soothed, but to my mother as well. Had I sat in her room reading, or working on my laptop, or scrolling through my phone, I would have been there, yes, but I would not have been fully present. Knitting allowed me to be fully present with her, engaged in a thing, but available to her as she moved through rest and rouse, talk and worry.
We often find ourselves in situations that call for us to be fully present while the press of everyday life makes it a challenge to do so. If you can, keep your knitting close so you can give of yourself to those who need you, offering them the gift of your full presence.
I look forward to seeing you in the shop and around the table. You are always welcome here.