Picking up the pieces

I am often asked how I began to crochet?  I'll admit it is not the typical young New York woman's hobby.  I had been fascinated with crochet since I was young.  My Nannie was a seamstress and she also enjoyed crochet.  When I was little I would love to listen to her tell stories of when she was young while watching her create beautiful handmade items.  My favorite was watching her create delicate detailed embellishment designs with the fine thread.

Despite my fascination, I had never asked Nannie to teach me.  The magic she created with her hands felt like a  skill I could never accomplish.  As I got older Nannie spent less and less time with her needles and thread, and even less time crocheting.  She was diagnosed with Alzheimer disease and was slowly losing parts of herself.  Her crafting was just one of the many pieces slipping away.  As Nannie's disease progressed it was hard for the whole family.  The farther away from us she drifted into her mind the more I wished I could find a way, any way, to keep her close.  Sure we had incredible memories of late night talks, watching musicals and times filled with the joy of her singing and dancing, but it wasn't enough.  I needed something that I could do to make me feel close to her something that I could take with me forever.

After years of struggling, the doctors told us Nannie was at her last days.  Spring had just begun and it seemed wrong that a time of new beginnings would have to be a time of goodbyes for us.  It was during those last few months that I decided I felt closest to Nannie in crafts.  It was while she worked with her hands that her mind was free and she shared the most.  I went home one night after the nursing home and picked up one of her crochet hooks she had left at our house.  I found a skein of yarn intended for one of our projects and began the quest to crochet.  I had watched Nannie's hands in awe for years and now I was determined to make my hands look like hers.  It was by no means an easy task.  I pulled apart that first scarf time and again and no matter what I did I could not get my stitches even.  I just kept trying and trying and as the days went on and Nannie came closer to the end I came closer to picking up the pieces.

Nannie's smile- one of the many trips to the park with her grandchildren.

Nannie eventually was taken away from her suffering and our family all found their ways to deal with the loss and to begin healing.  I found peace in working toward making my hands like Nannie's, the things she had made with her two hands had wrapped us all in love.  Whether it was her blankets that kept us warm, the details she added to our communion dresses, or the Halloween costumes that made us feel like we really were Glenda from the Wizard of Oz, Scarlet O'Hara from Gone with the Wind, or Raggedy Ann...we spend our lives wrapped in Nannie's love.

Though it would take me months after I had started, I eventually learned to regulate my stitch tension, how to make the ends even, and finally how to finish a crochet product I started.  When I finished my scarf  and wrapped it around my neck I felt as if I was receiving a hug from Nannie.  There really is something special about an item made by hand.  And so began my love of crochet and I cant help but to smile every time I think about how something I made carries on a piece of Nannie and wraps someone in love.