The Blanket

I took up crocheting about 10 years ago. My Mom taught be a basic stitch and I went to work on a blanket. I figured a gift like this would be special to someone. I like crocheting for a lot of reasons. First and foremost it kept my hands busy so I stopped snacking so much at night. Secondly, I would think a lot when I would knit. My hands after a little while would start to become an automatic motion and a rhythm began much like the thoughts in my head reeling like an old 8mm on a projector. I use to think about so many things and when I gave that first blanket away I thought about all the thoughts I was giving with it. I thought about the baby that would be wrapped up in my memories, it was a special moment to me.

Let me rewind about 11 years. My Dad was diagnosed with terminal cancer. At the time I was 18 and the word terminal did not mean anything to me. My Dad was strong, actually the strongest person I knew so whatever it was, he would fight it and more importantly he would win... (or so I thought.) I can remember a Saturday night I was home from college. It was winter time and My dad's prognosis was getting worse. I was sitting on the couch in the office and my Mom was sitting next to me. After our typical channel scan I believe we ended up on a lifetime movie. She started in on the questions not soon after we settled in. "You know your Father is very sick, right?" "Adrienne, you know he may not get better, right?" This series of questioning continued and I am sad to report I did not make this conversation easy for my mother. I kept saying I knew he would be OK and I remember thinking that losing my father at age 18 was just not an option. She was trying to prepare her daughter to lose her Dad and I would not and did not let her. At no point in time did my 18 year old brain consider what my mother was going through...

My Mom was there for my Father.
They had what I remember to be a perfect marriage. I can only imagine how it shattered so many dreams when the doctors muttered the word cancer. My Mom never gave up on Dad... She was there every step of the way for every Doctor's appointment and every radiation treatment. With her, to every treatment she would bring a bag that contained a large spool of green yarn and her crocheting needle to pass the time. I can only imagine as her hands found a rhythm what went through her mind as she sat in the hospital waiting for her dyeing husband who was fighting for his life. Did tears fall on that blanket? Did she smile thinking about days long ago when her and dad were newlyweds? Or did she think about the three children they had born and raised together? Did she worry for her life and for her children....? where were her thoughts? The blanket was there for her, the way she was there for Dad.
The blanket was packed away when he passed the following year. I thought about the blanket a few times and even considered asking her if I could finish it with the stitches she taught me but figured she would finish it when the time was right.

This Christmas I pulled from a gift bag this green blanket. I will use this blanket to wrap my baby, my mother's grandchild this coming year. I think about my baby being snuggled between my Mother's memories. I believe these memories will link my child to his of her Grandfather. It seemed I was right, the gift of a homemade blanket is very very special...