It has been a year now since my very first post–and seven months since my last post. I was still feeling my way into blogging, still finding my voice and style, when, in March, my husband died suddenly of a heart attack.
In the immediate weeks after his death, I didn’t knit a stitch, much less think at all about this blog. In the weeks and months since, I did come back to knitting and to spinning. I have been so grateful for both as I grieve and mourn. A couple of times I attempted and failed to write a blog post.
Today, a rainy Sunday, I have been reading Kate Davies’s new book, Handywoman. This book about adapting to a new and devastating reality speaks to me in many ways. As I finished her chapter on the knitting community, I once again felt compelled to come back to this blog.
So here I am.
I have wonderful friends.
Still, I spend a good amount of time alone now.
I have lost the person that I told everything to.
Whorled Enough calls to me with more urgency now, as a place where I can pass on my ideas, thoughts, and experiences around my fiber practices to others who share my passion. When I stopped blogging, I had two readers I knew about: Fred and my knitting buddy Lisa. There were a few other readers as well, I think, from my rudimentary understanding of the blog stats. I am grateful for all readers, whether a reader offers a comment or not.
The morning that Fred died, when I thought it was just another day, I cast on stitches for a baby blanket. This blanket was for the baby, due in late May, of a good friend of Fred’s. Together, Fred and I had chosen pattern and yarn. He wanted a grayish blue for this baby, and we found just the right shade in Madelinetosh’s Well Water. The pattern we chose was Tin Can Knits’s Little Tern Blanket in Jen Arnall-Culliford’s A Year of Techniques.
I am glad that I cast on that blanket on that day, though it was weeks before I picked it up again. Fred did not get a chance to meet baby Lucas, but Lucas now has the blanket that Fred imagined for him, and that I knit for him as I was making my way through a dense fog of grief. The rhythmic waves of knit and purl stitches soothed me and carried me. It felt right and good that my first project after losing Fred was for a baby about to be born.