If you are looking for a post about resolutions, don’t look here. If you are looking for a how-to, keep moving on. I am not very eloquent about those matters, and usually am the kid in the back of the classroom begging for help as I have somehow managed to glue the container of glue to my forehead and notebook…
But if you are looking for something raw, inspirational, and hopefully beautiful, then keep reading. A few years ago I had my dream job. Most people who think that spending all night with someone who was in a comma as a painful job, but I loved it. Don’t misunderstand me, and think that this was an easy job, were I watched TV all night. How sadly mistaken you would be. Not only was a parent/guardian in the house, but a lot of noise would tend to upset the client. And plus there was the whole ‘medically fragile’, and inability to function without assistance that kept me, their aide on my toes. But on an off chance that they were sleeping, (so I didn’t read to them) I would pass the time with crocheting. This was a simple thing that once on a summer day my bored mother thought she would try and teach me how. Needless to say, I did, and still do (although other medical issues make this difficult now).
Well, about a year at this job my husband informed me of an impending doom. We were moving, and at this point I was almost finished with the blanket I was making for my client. It was soft, and had the browns and green that my little house did. And composed mainly of granny squares and other weird stitches that I thought he would like. The square with white was especially difficult for me as I made it while we waited for M to return from the ER after a nasty bout of pneumonia. It was amazing that I had finished it so quickly, but I couldn’t stop pacing as I nervously waited in his room for him to return. I hadn’t completed this blanket and none of the stores had the ‘right’ color to finish the border.
A year passed, and although I didn’t finish the blanket, the family, and client that I had gotten attached to was still incredibly close to my heart. I still had that promise that I would finish M’s blanket and he would enjoy it! He just had to… I had put so much effort into it, that I knew it would be just as much of a reminder of our time together for me as it was for him. Plus I knew he would be proud of me, which was equally as important.
Tragedy struck. M died. It broke me apart. He wasn’t my child, my brother, but he was. He inspired me… His parents taught me everything. Compassion, understanding, and even the grace of holding one’s tongue when all you really want to do is yell at them (not his parents but other individuals).
Today, while in search of winter clothing for this amazing cold snap, I found it. I found M’s unfinished gift from me. I allow the hollowness and shame to envelope me as I think back on the last two years with emptiness. Have I done things that I should be proud of? Yes. Have I had adventures? Yes. But have I finished the gift? No. Maybe it is some sick sadistic reason, but I still can not find the right color yarn. And I may never will. But as I wrap the incomplete blanket, I accept it’s warmth, I wonder if there is a lesson here that M is trying to teach me. That just because it doesn’t have a border like I imagine doesn’t mean it can’t provide me with comfort. Maybe this is his way of saying accept my faults, learn from them, and wrap myself in the growth they provide.
Or it could be that it is so cold that the lack of blood to my brain and fingers are making me all mushy.
Where ever you are M, I know you are looking out for me, and I will forever keep you in my heart.