After living in Portland, Oregon for over 20 years I moved with my family to the East Bay in California. Although I had the love of my boys, those were lonely days for me. I got into a job that was difficult to transition into, we moved into a house that was still under renovation, and then came a miscarriage and the subsequent choice to step away from working in an attempt to stitch up the sudden void left inside of me.
A few weeks ago, the church I attend held a memorial for two teenage boys who drowned while swimming in a local dam. Each boy was on Earth for less than 17 years. I don't know the families personally, but how tragic it is to out-live your own child. Does it feel the same? Is the pain of losing a child you've loved for 17 years the same as losing an unborn child you fondly envisioned a future for? I don't have the answer; I pray I never will, but these events in life --- events that leave scars in your heart that every once in a while open into a well of tears --- have to be stitched by some means. This is what crocheting does for me.