Crochet Queen: Royal Ramblings

I woke up this morning "thinking"! November is a hard month for me, full of so many celebrations: Chloe's 10th birthday; my wedding anniversary; and Thanksgiving. I'm not alone with all of my family here to share these celebrations; yet I am alone. I am grateful that we have now moved into December, a busy and creative time. It has been 3 1/2 years since Alan's death. I held his hand as he took his last breath. I have started a new chapter of my life; and  I am proud of myself for the progress I have made. It does take time to adjust, though. Anyone who has had a loss may feel grieving is like "carrying a stone in your pocket. One always feels it; sometimes barely noticeable, other times if turning slightly, it may feel painful. You rub the pain and keep going. Few know about your stone or realized it can still bring this much pain. There are days now that I feel happy and slap my leg with laughter. Feeling the stone, t still hurts and I wonder if I sho...

Transformation I started to think about titles that would convey my feelings in a  piece of art to memorialize my husband, Alan Kinsler, on 6/7/2016. The date is significant because we both knew he was dying of Corticobasal Degeneration , an incurable  brain disease. It struck me that I needed to hold on to some of the extra medical equipment that had been so necessary for his use and comfort. Although none of this equipment was enjoyable, I knew that I wanted to use it in a way to make the discomfort and his death transform into something that would honor the  memory of his courage throughout the painful 10-year journey we traveled together. He died on 7/1/16.

Each year as the birthday of my dearly departed husband, Alan, draws near on June 23, I begin to cocoon. Thankfully, I have my crochet for comfort! Shortly after he died, I began to crochet shawls for Threads of Compassion, the charity of the Indiana Donor Network . I can feel great pride in doing this work; because with utmost courage, Alan donated his brain to research on his incurable disease at the Mayo Clinic in Jacksonville, Florida. Both locally and nationally from the Mayo Clinic, I experienced compassion for what he was going through. It is almost two years until the day of his death; and it doesn't get easier. I draw happiness for the creativity I put into my crochet. It's colorful and can be a bright spot in my day; it is soothing as the smooth or rough fibers flow through my hands. I'm taken away to a place from the rhythm of crochet that is both nostalgic and distracting. Just like the vibrant colors of yarn fade after years and much usefulness; so too di...