Yesterday
Posted By jenifleur on September 30, 2008
This should have been posted yesterday, but eh. Inertia. What are you gonna do, you know? All in all, the second anniversary of Mom’s death could have been a lot worse. I got up at 2:45 to be at work at a ridiculous 4 am only to sit in the parking lot until my regularly scheduled time of 5 am because wires had been crossed and doors weren’t unlocked, etc. It wasn’t a total waste because I did get some knitting done. A couple of repeats on the Clapotis. A few more and I’ll begin decreasing. I’ll have this done in time to give it to my MIL when I go up for Rhinebeck. I started off making this for myself, but somehow the yarn just keep sending me pictures of her and sometimes you have to do what the yarn tells you to do. I like the idea of giving her something that’s knitted up with memories of my own mom.
I was pretty tired because of the early wake up and the killer day once I was able to get in there and actually do the work. So after I visited with some of her stuff yesterday afternoon, I took a nap. When my brother and I finally broached the subject of what day it was, it was late and we didn’t feel like reminiscing anyway. Today, though, I wanted to post some pictures of her knitting stuff. 
I have mom’s cedar chest in my bedroom and I hadn’t opened it up in a long time, but since I wanted to remember her, it was a good place to go. It still smells like her. I have a couple of her FOs, but I only took one out to photograph. This is what I call “The Football Sweater”. She made it to wear to my brother’s and my games. (He played for several years and I was a cheerleader for a couple.)
It reminds me of cold autumn nights and pompoms and my mom buying me hot chocolate and cheering us on under the stadium lights. 
And it reminds me of the enormous piles of sweaters and coats that ended up on the back of the couch after games, when we were all too tired and cold to put them away before bed. Once my brother sleepwalked downstairs and laid on the couch, pulling the entire pile-including this one-on top of him for warmth. It’s nice to have a physical object of those memories.
I have no idea where this hook came from, but I can see that it’s ivory and probably fairly old. It’s sort of polished by wear in a few places and for some reason, I always find comfort in things like that. Like worn wooden stair railings and kitchen utensils with the paint rubbed away. I keep associating the few pieces of ivory that were in my mom’s possession with the fact that we came from whaling people on one side, but that doesn’t make any sense at all. Unless elephants used to roam the oceans, right? I hate this muddy state of mental confusion. I wish I’d asked more questions when she was still here. I wish she was still here to answer them. I wish I had more than her smell and a few of her things. And I wish she hadn’t died just at the beginning of Autumn. The rhythm of the seasons aligns with the end of her life for maximum effect with me. I wonder how much longer I’ll be counting off the anniversaries. 
It’s not all sadness, there’s new good stuff going on, too. Like Jojoland melody 
which I had to finally put out of sight in order to finish Clapotis. Mom wouldn’t approve. She would have looked askance at my choice of earth tones in the bottom picture, but she wouldn’t be at all surprised when I smiled and used it anyway. (I’ll make it up to you, Mom. I promise to knit something red or yellow very soon.) I abandoned all hope of spinning and knitting a Rhinebeck sweater, which I think is a return to my former good sense. If you see me at Rhinebeck, I’ll be wearing my CPH or my Norma sweater, neither of which got enough good exposure last winter anyway. I’m looking forward to meeting some of my friends. That’s a very odd sentence, but some of my closest friends these days are only known to me via the internet. It will be so nice to have faces and voices to put with the pictures!
Two years already? Does it feel that way to you? You seem to be at peace, and I’m glad for you. Some people never get there. And you’ll always be counting the anniversaries, I think.
What a poignant, beautiful post. I hope you wore your mom’s football sweater a little while, and if you did, I’m sure it felt like a hug.
It’s good you have those things of your Mom’s. Doesn’t make up for not having her, but you’re lucky to have some things full of good memories.
I love that football sweater. It’s hard to believe it’s been two years.
Have fun at Rhinebeck.
I love this post. I have some things from my grandmama like you have from your mom.
Rhinebeck! See you there.
It is hard to believe it is 2 years, what a wonderful poignant post! Could the hook be from walrus ivory? If your people were around whaling then that is probably what it is. just a thought.
I like things that have been loved and used, too. When I think ivory, I think scrimshaw and whalers too, so you’re not all confused. Wikipedia helped me out and says walruses have ivory tusks and there’s also whale teeth and baleen.
My best thoughts and good wishes to you.
Clearly your knitting talent came from your Mom. That woman could knit. What a lovely legacy.
Your mom’s football sweater is gorgeous. Do you ever wear it?
I have some Jojoland in that’s very similar to the autumn colorway. I love it and it’s not splitty at all to knit with which makes it even better.
This post really touched me… in my non-knitting blog, I’d just been thinking of writing something similar. My mom died a little over two and a half years ago and I’ve been thinking of her in a similar way lately, since I inherited her piano and I just had it tuned. It feels like bringing back some of her spirit to have the instrument be playable again. I know she’d approve of the tuner and I wish I could tell her.
Anyway. Best wishes to you and what lovely treasures to have with your memories!
A really lovely, elegiacal post. I cling to my grandmother’s things in just the same way.
Very touching post (darn it, you made me cry first thing this am). But you also helped me realize how much I should treasure my mom (and dad) because they’re still here. Thanks for sharing the memories of your very talented mom with us.
BTW, I bought some lemoncello this summer and it reminded me of something I thought you told me about you mom. Did she like lemon drops (the drink) or am I imagining things? If not, my imagination is really running wild with your family in it…
My dad has been gone 20 years, he died when I was 20. You never stop counting the anniversaries, thinking of things they missed, are missing, and missing them the whole time. I too wish I had asked more questions, or could call him and ask him now.
Thanks for sharing this post with us, and for helping me remember him on a non-anniversary day.
My Dad died when I was 16. I’m 54 and I’m sure I think of him almost daily.
How nice that you can associate some good memories of your mother with your love of knitting. A perfect combination.
My friend has a wooden antique version of that row counter.
How long before you quit counting? Never…but each year the sadness is less and the sweetness greater. I didn’t get on well with my mother (she wanted a different sort o’ kid than I) but I WAS my Daddy’s girl. He died in 1963 and I *often* find myself wondering what Daddy would’ve thought of this or that. He was in Public Opinion Research and was a newspaperman – what would he have thought of the Internet? Google? Barak Obama? One day I’ll have the chance to ask him. Hope they have some seriously ginormous teapots in Heaven……
17 years for me this year and I’m still counting….
I’m going to Rhinebeck too! Very excited
I just saw your post, dear Jen. I am sorry and I feel sad for you. I am glad you have these wonderful memories. They will never go away. Your mom was a very talented knitter. Like mother, like daughter. Sending a warm hug to you, my friend!
I just wanted to say that I have the exact crochet hook the ivory one you have showed in the blog pic. I inherited it from my grandmother who is Russian descent. I knew when I happened across it that it was very old and very special.