So I thought I'd do a short post on something that is quite close to my heart.
When I was younger both my brother and myself were taught to knit by my granny (or grandmother if you're not from Scotland). Our knitting was kept at my grandparents house and every week when my family visited we'd get our knitting out and knit away while my parents talked about what was going on that week.
I wouldn't necessarily say it's hard to learn. It's like riding a bike or learning to drive - once you learn it you never really forget it. Yes - you might be rusty but once you get back into it - it comes back pretty quickly. My granny had a cupboard in her house and it was full of knitting needles and there were hundreds of bags of wool - I'm not kidding - there was an entire cupboard in her spare room dedicated to knitting needles and wool. However when she sadly passed away (due to a long battle with cancer) and then my grampa (grandfather for those not Scottish) passed away from a heart attack a year or so afterwards - the house was cleared out and they were thrown out because no one wanted them.
I find knitting very soothing and relaxing and it keeps my hands busy. I'm trying to stop biting my nails - it's so easy when your watching Netflix and you're doing nothing with your hands so you start chewing on your nails or the skin around your nails. So I started knitting again to distract my hands.
If you wondered eBay has a great range of shops that have wool and needles and they are not too expensive.
Knitting always reminds me of my granny and I really do miss her. I didn't see her that much before she passed away because I was always working when visiting time was.
Death is hard to talk about but I remember arguing with my mum about going to see her - I refused every time and I do think it upset my mum (some might say it was disrespectful) but if you look at it from my point of view - you have this memory of your granny - fit and healthy and not ill - why would you want to ruin that with an everlasting memory of her ill, thin and fragile, jerking around on a hospital bed because she's hopped up on painkillers because the pain is too much and she thinks you are my brother because she's that out of it.
I still remember the memory of me standing at the bottom of her hospital bed. I think she passed away later that night or the next day - I can't remember - it's not something I dwell on.
That's the last memory I have of my granny - it's not one I think about frequently - I try to remember her fixing my knitting or when she taught us to knit or when she taught us to cross stitch - happy memories.
This post got awfully dark all of a sudden. Apologies for that - we've gone from knitting to death in seconds.
I'll leave you with this picture - sorry if you find it dark or too sad (excuse my mum's legs).
Let me know if the comments if anything reminds you of people you've lost - obviously I'll understand if its too difficult to say or talk about.
