I got one of those phone calls we all hope we never get. The death was an accident. As I packed for the flight to be with my family and attend the funeral, that sliver of my brain that still functioned knew to pack a lot of yarn.
I needed it. That week I spent with my loved ones was the hardest week of my life so far. It was harder, even, than the first week home from the hospital with my preemie, the standard by which I measure all hardships. It set a new standard.
It was amazing to me, through all this, what a single thread of yarn can do to tether one to reality. It was as if wrapping my hook around that string and holding on for dear life was all that kept me from spiraling out to who-knows-where (caveat: this is not recommended for keeping gauge).
The only time I set down my stitching was to hold onto my family. Keeping myself grounded in a task that could both distract me or free my thoughts as needed helped me to be strong for those that needed me.
So far time does not show much evidence of making things any easier. But I am grateful for crochet's ability to transform from a craft and art into a survival skill and coping mechanism. I've been finishing a lot of projects lately.
I hope that crochet can help to bring you comfort in the hard times of your life.
All the best,
