Cherished Knitting

Over the past year, I have read far too many obituaries of people I know or know of. Relatives, friends, schoolmates, parents of friends, celebrities and work-related acquaintances.  Far too many have gone this year. 

Besides the natural evocation and contemplative impact I encounter upon reading a commemorative death notice, one of the most lasting marks impressed on my heart has been the use of the word cherished by those who remain.  

Cherished husband... cherished father... cherished son or daughter... cherished mother and wife...  

Were they indeed cherished when they were alive? 
Did they feel protected and lovingly cared for?  
Were they adored? 
Held dear? 
Doted on? 
Revered? 
Admired and held in high esteem every day of their lives? 
Not just after their time here on earth...as memory? 

Do we remember to ensure that the people we call our loved ones know they are treasured when they are animated participants of our everyday existence?

If not...Why not?

Feeling cherished is, in all probability, one of the most important contributors to general health: healthy relationships, reduced stress, greater motivation to succeed, and overall successful functionality.

Why is it such an easy word to write in a death notice, and such a difficult task to perform on a daily basis?  So many people I know tell me how they don't feel appreciated at home or at work; don't feel that their families care about them as much as they should.  Taken for granted. Taken advantage of. Ignored. Scapegoated. Does it really take that much energy to cherish?

I think not.

We have gotten out of the habit of cherishing the people in our lives.

Sometimes slowing down our fast paced lives is the secret recipe to Cherish.

Fast food. 
Mass produced clothes. 
These are some of the culprits of the NonCherished.  

Some of us who still enjoy constructing meals that take hours to prepare -- we know that we do it, in part, to show friends and family how much we care.  Yes, we could cater, yes, we could shortcut our way through an aisle at Costco: but we don't.  Festive meals strengthen tribal bonds of friends and family.  We break bread to make connections.

Similarly, as Knitters we create for those we cherish.  We measure and slowly fasten loops to unite simple fibre into an expression of adoration: scarves shield, sweaters enshrine, socks preserve, mitts embrace, and hats guard against malice for the people we care about.

Most knitters I know are constantly knitting gifts.  Many more knit for charities.  In fact, I believe that to share something you have created with someone you have never or will never know is the ultimate form of cherish: 'I don't know you. But I made this for you. Because you matter.' That's what I wrote on the note I slipped into the hat I knit for the 1,000 Stitches for Syria Project.  Those words along with 'Welcome to Canada.'

It's one of the reasons I knit socks as gifts. Socks look difficult, but once you wrap your head around their construction, they really aren't all that more arduous than a hat or shawl.  Yes, they are more than show-offy displays of "hey, look what I can do! I can turn a heel and knit with 5 double pointed needles at once"... but when you need someone to understand just how much you cherish them, socks are a genuine indication of just that:
 
"If someone makes you a hand-knit sock they really, really love you. Why?  Because a sock is knit with what essentially are toothpicks and dental floss, the knitter must screw up their eyes to keep track of those teeny tiny loops and learn to master a perfectly turned heel flap -- not to mention putting a knot in their neck to do it -- and in the end, voilà, a sock... You see, you know they really, really love you... because THEN they make you a SECOND SOCK TOO!" (Knittishisms, 2008)   Yes! They cherish you THAT much!

It's time to remind the people in our lives that we cherish them. Say it. Knit it. Even when you'd like to throttle them... hug them and measure them for a new cardigan.  It's better than a solemn farewell printed in a daily broadsheet that they will never read; and it will do you both a world of good.