Making to Distract
And if I'm being honest, most of my surge of creativity is my need for distraction. It's a need to be busy. To stay focused and pour my need to do something into something that has a tangibility to it. So I'm knitting, weaving, sewing and crocheting all of the time. I'm making things for myself and gifts for others. I even made my husband a hat, the very first thing he's ever asked me to knit for him.
My mom had a sign hanging up in the entry way that said "Home is where your mom is." And that sign weighs heavy on me. It feels like a lie. Like an evil fallacy. A taunt even. I know that my mom lives on in every single person she touched, but that stupid sign makes me want to throw it into a brick wall and break it into tiny, tiny pieces. Because my mom is not in any place that I can call home anymore. And even if there are still text conversations in my phone and her number is still high up on my favorite contacts list, there will be no more of my annoying phone calls to her 25 times in one day to tell her about how I figured out how to use the buttonhole foot on my sewing machine. Or that the hemline on my shorts is actually even and matches on both legs. For the record, she wouldn't have given a shit. But she would have cared that it mattered to me.
Mom wasn't the type to keep track of everything perfectly. She wasn't Susie Homemaker, and she'd have told you that herself. But if you needed a secret kept, or a hug, or if you needed to vent about something, she'd listen. She had a knack for complete strangers feeling so comfortable with her that they would divulge their entire life stories, including their most closely guarded secrets, in a matter of minutes. She could typically see both sides of most debates and arguments. And if someone she loved and respected was on opposing sides, it would tear her apart until it was resolved. But if she decided she'd picked a side? She was as immovable as a mountain. Because stubborn doesn't begin to describe that woman's resolve. She told me once she liked being older, she had less reason to give a shit what other people thought of her, and it was a really freeing feeling. I hate like hell that I don't get to see what she would have thought about being 65 or 70. I miss those conversations. And while I don't cry every single moment of every day anymore, knowing that we are coming up to the holidays, the grief seems to be surfacing a bit more readily lately.
Maybe it's because it's yet another in the list of Firsts we have to go through, and I know it will be horrid. Maybe it's because there are so many things lately I've wanted to call and tell her. Maybe this is just the part where it's been awhile since I've had a really rough patch and I'm due for one now, but I'm really missing Mom. I can't even begin to imagine what a Thanksgiving or Christmas will look like without her presence, so I'm half pretending that they aren't right around the corner. I'm ignoring the decorations in the stores even while I'm planning gifts and making them daily. I know I'll get through this just as much as I've made it through all of the rest of it. But grieving is not an easy road to travel.
On a lighter note, since I can't spam Mom with pictures, I'll just spam you. Here are a couple of my sewing projects from this weekend. These were my made for me testers before I make versions for others.
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| Dinosaur Project Bag |
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| Lining of the bag with a test knit inside! |
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| My flannel shorts!! |
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| Proof they fit me! |
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