I know that I said last week that there would not be a post today, a conversation with a dear friend helped me see that this post might be helpful to me and I am certain that all of you sharing things that you discovered during the month with your words might be helpful to me as well… so here I am.
This month, my focus was to make an attempt to slow down these waning days of 2025, which felt like they were racing past at warp speed.
The Be Careful of What You Wish For slow down arrived abruptly last Monday and I have been in this strange time ever since. All constructs of time feel broken… or maybe it is me that is broken. Let me tell you though, I much prefer the work of the Yutori of Slowing Down versus the Yutori of Grief.
And so to help occupy consume time, on Thursday I picked up some knitting… but not knitting that if I made a mistake (which was highly likely) that it would be problematic to fix… cloud knitting is not grief knitting. Fortunately I had a long forgotten sock that I had haphazardly begun last April… I was at the point of the decreases that work down the foot. Could I string my thoughts together to work through those decreases? Maybe? And if I could not, would it really matter?
And so I poured all my grief into these stitches. Likewise, these stitches hold an abundance of worry I have for my son and his wife as they navigate the unthinkable. That worry also created some righteous anger that I poured into the stitches… so much anger. And before I knew it, that first sock was done. I cast on the second sock and continued to fill it with tears and heartbreak and emptiness… and a measure of guilt… yes, guilt. Guilt over the delight of the daily update of Odette.
Who knew that the Yutori of Grief would also have moments of indescribable joy and so I knit that guilt into the sock as well.
I am closing in on the finish of this second sock…I am at the toe decreases as I schedule this to post. However, it seems evident to me that these are socks that I don’t think I can ever wear (I mean… these socks hold so much… so much, I fear they would be painful to wear.) Instead, I will tuck these socks away… a reminder of grieving for what won’t be.
When I settled in with this word this year… I had no idea at all how it would help shape my days and honestly, last month I was feeling quite “done” with Yutori. But life had other plans because I had no idea of how Yutori would also help shape my grief. Divine intervention? I don’t know… truthfully, my anger with the divine right now is off the charts. I prefer to settle in with my much loved Rilke and his wisdom about living the questions… questions that have absolutely no answers and likely never will…
Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer. — Rainer Maria Rilke
And so, yes… I am even living (and knitting) grief with all its unanswered questions.
Thank you for allowing me the space to share this most excruciating time with you all. And thank you even more for all the kind support you are giving me through your thoughts and for holding me and my family close in your hearts. It has been an immeasurable boon of good that is bearing me up each day. I will be back on Wednesday, I think… with something, I am not sure exactly what… perhaps another sock?
As always, if you have an update to share about how your word and you fared this month… I welcome your update and I am eager to read it! You can leave your link below!
It’s good to hear from you, and that your sock is serving a purpose. During great grief, I’ve also found that time warps and I’ve been amazed that the world seems able to keep moving when I can’t. Living with uncertainty is one of the hardest things and I don’t think that there is any remedy for this except time. I’m continuing to send thoughts and prayers to you, your son, and daughter in law and holding all of you in my heart.
Oh Kat, this is a beautiful (and painful) post. My heart is still so heavy for you, your son and daughter-in-law. Wishing you all peace as you move through the process of grieving.
I am sending you and your family all the love that I can in this time. I have been grieving with you since you told us. I am sorry to say that I know exactly what you are all going through as I lost my third son after 11 short hours in this beautiful world. Believe me you will all come through this day by day, month by month and year by year. It just hurts right now with a raw roaring emotional howl. Talking/writing helps… and knitting. Whatever it takes.. we are here for you. Much love. This will change you forever. xx
I have been praying for you and your family daily. May your knitting continue to console you.
I am so glad to see you posting. I know the grief has been unimaginable — but even in grief, I’m happy to see that there is still joy to be found. As you are processing and healing, my hope for you is that you can find some joy in each day, even if it seems silly or irrelevant. In the darkest times, there is always light to be found.
Oh, Kat. What a beautiful, heartfelt post. I thank you for sharing your thoughts and feelings and sadness – and even your joy – with us here. I think your socks-of-grief will serve you well . . . as a tangible reminder of this time in your life. You may never wear them, but whenever you see them – tucked away wherever they are, I bet you’ll be able to recall how their stitches helped you cope with strong emotions and harsh feelings and so much sadness. Or . . . maybe you’ll just want to get rid of them at some point. Who knows? But knitting does much to center us and keep us grounded in our daily lives – especially when we are sad and worried. (I knit a beautiful scarf while I sat with my mother in her final weeks. She loved to touch it. I can’t wear it. But I do get it out once in a while, just to touch it myself. And remember.)
Holding you in my heart. And sending so much love. XO
I’m glad you posted. I having been thinking of you and your family everyday. I’m glad knitting can be a help for you at this time.
Oh Kat I’m so sorry. I’ll be thinking of you all.
I love how you poured your grief and anger and emotions into those socks and I’m grateful that you were able to share it with us, too, because I’ve been so worried about you. As I was reading this, I kept thinking how those socks were full of too much sorrow to wear and I see that you felt the same way about them. Maybe they can be like worry dolls and when you’re feeling overwhelmed with grief you can hold them and remember how they helped you process these first extra sharp days.
This feels like poetry in motion, Kat. Stitches of grief and joy. Slowing down seems like just the right thing — as a way to move through, instead of around. Holding space for your family’s sorrows and celebrations. Could there be a more difficult And?
♥
I just wanted to let you know that you and your family have been in my thoughts this last week.
Kat, I hope you found it helpful to write this post. I cannot imagine the pain and despair that you’re feeling. I hope you are finding small moments to hold onto throughout the day, moment by moment. ❤️
Thank you for coming back and sharing this hard part of your life with us. Your family has been on my heart since you shared your sad news. I too have found some small help in knitting in hard time – though it didn’t turn out to be very good knitting. I think you’re wise in your anger and living with the questions. Take care – grief is exhausting.