The Rest of the Story

I started a new pair of mitts at my knitting group the other night. This Andean Alpaca yarn is soft, but still substantial enough not to be flimsy on these slippery little Clover circular needles. The pattern is the plain ribbed version of the ones I completed a few days ago.

I brought that pair of mitts with me to show off because I am notorious for failing to finish my projects. I explained to the woman sitting next to me that they had originally been chosen as a sympathy gift (is there such a thing?) for the mother of a friend who had committed suicide in the winter, but that I was keeping them because they were too wonky to give away.

Back in January, I spent the first few days after our friend's death full of nervous energy and grief, wondering what I could make or do to make the situation better. Obviously, there wasn't anything one can do in that situation to reduce the pain of a grieving family, so I chose a project that I hoped would be physically, if not mentally, comforting for his mother during the cold Kansas winters.

I chose the color of the yarn because it reminded me of the sky and how much our friend had loved the sight of the wide open prairie skies for which this part of the country is famous. I chose the yarn because it was soft and warm. The pattern was chosen for its complexity - in order to keep my mind focused on something other than the violent death of a peaceful and caring person.

As I explained (although not in this much detail) the original intention of the project, my knitting friend told me that I must give them to my friend's mother because they were chosen carefully with her in mind and that even though I was unhappy with the imperfect result, they were meant for her and were destined to be worn on her hands. After reflecting on all of this, I will be giving them to this amazing mother of six who is still dealing with the loss of a son. If nothing else, she will know that I am thinking of her.