It’s now been just over a year since my mother passed away suddenly. Christmas day, 2011. I remember the day as if it were only yesterday and yet I still do not think that I have grieved. Grief is an odd thing and it manifests itself in so many different ways, that sometimes you find yourself doing things that you wouldn’t normally do, as a by-product of that very same grief.
Because of this, I now understand why I have been trying to make myself crochet for the past week! Well…if I’m going to be brutally honest with you here, it has been going on for nearly a year, in odd fits and starts, mostly resulting in me getting extremely frustrated with myself.
You see, my mother was a prolific crocheter. Some of my favourite memories I have of her, have been of her sat on a sofa, completely surrounded with wool, with a massive, never-ending granny square, that she had been crocheting the life out of. These granny squares of doom, would end up being equally massive blankets of many, many colours (some not all together easy on the eye), and they would be thrown over armchairs, beds, the dog’s baskets and anywhere else that hadn’t been christened with a bloody granny square.
This is why I have been torturing my fingers, my eyes and my brain, in trying to learn this dark art. A part of me doesn’t want to lose that image of my mother and so I guess, some dysfunctional part of my inner self decided that if you can’t sit and watch someone do it, then I must do it myself. And do you know what? After a year of attempting to crochet, unpicking stitches, a single ball of white wool being literally torn apart and my fingers almost in permanent cramp – I do believe that I have cracked the granny square! This notorious little crochet pattern has bugged me, to the point where I am dreaming flipping crochet. My saving grace in the end, was YouTube. Thank you, thank you, thank you!! Google, I love you!
So, naturally I had to go out and purchase some more hooks and some more yarn. Thankfully the local market in town sells them all relatively cheap.
The plan is an Afghan, made out of granny squares. No never-ending, granny square of doom for me, oh no. I want to prove to myself that I can finish a project. Then when I have, I can graduate myself up to the gorgeous expensive REAL WOOL yarns, instead of the cheap 100% acrylic stuff I’m using. Plus, it’s an excuse to go visit the expensive wool shop. Seriously I would probably feign expert knowledge in knitting, just to sit and take in the atmosphere of that place. It’s like an old dusty book shop, but without the books. Yeah…you get what I mean right? Never mind.
Thank you mum, you’ve given me a hobby that I desperately needed – something to do with my restless hands and equally restless brain. Now I know why you spent so much of your time absorbed in your crochet. It’s fluffy food for thought!
What hobbies did you inherit from a loved one? I’d love to know, drop me a comment!