For the tender and joyful parts inside of us

Or, a few musings on how knitting can find that spot where sadness and joy co-exist

Content note: In this letter, I talk about grief and loss. If you are managing grief right now, you might want to skip this one. Or you might want to read it. I’m not sure. Only you know how your heart is feeling and what would feel supportive. I trust you to take good care of yourself.

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Grief is a funny thing. It never really goes away. It’s more like the ocean. Always there, sometimes calm, sometimes quiet, sometimes roaring. My little brother died in a car crash so, so many years ago. He was just 20 years old then, and he’d be 52 today. I’ve lived with grief longer than my brother was alive, and far longer than he and I lived together.

This image is so much more tender than it appears. The socks are an homage to my little brother who died at the age of 20, they’re modeled by me, and my son’s well-used basketball is to the side. All three of us are here: a sister, a nephew, and a brother who’s defined by his absence.

I don’t talk about him much, but if a new friend or acquaintance asks me if I have siblings, I will always say, “yes, but my lil brother died a long time ago, so now I’m an only.” It’s a lot, and most folks don’t usually say much more after getting that unexpected answer. Just a mumbled, oh, I’m so sorry.

A few years ago, my friend, Tyne (an amazing knitwear designer in her own right | links to Ravelry) was admiring a picture on my fireplace mantle of my little brother and me. He was 3 and I was 7, and we are rocking our 70s outfits, together with our beautiful Grammy. Rather than make that quiet, awkward noise people make when they encounter someone else’s grief, Tyne admired Jeff’s socks, which were the classic 70s tube sock style, and she immediately got him. That little boy, the impish grin, the feet that couldn’t wait to get moving again. She suggested I turn those adorable socks into a pattern.

It took a while for me to fully embrace the idea. I don’t like to show my grief outwardly to anyone except those who are closest to me. But it’s always there. Sometimes roaring, sometimes quiet. An absence that has become a companion.

But along with the sadness is also a joy: the joy that my little brother was uniquely, positively, awesomely himself. He wore 70s style tube socks with his sneakers and peddled his Big Wheel as fast as lightening. He was that annoying little brother who wouldn’t leave me and my friends alone. He wouldn’t play the right way with the Barbies and tried to cut off her hair. He ran to greet me at the bottom of our long driveway when the school bus brought me home in the afternoon and gave me squeezy hugs.

He and I spent our kid years in the grooviest possible decade: the 70s. These were the years of long pointed shirt collars, women's lib, rhythm and blues, and long hair for everyone. I wore faux patchwork shirts, and he wore Garanimals mix-and-match clothing. We watched the Harlem Globetrotters Saturday morning cartoons and grew up when basketball players wore Chuck Taylor All-Stars on the court.

So, for these socks, I have tried to bring out that sense of being a little kid. Of running and climbing trees. Of fleeting childhood, when the world feels big and conquerable all at once.

This is a sock that’s also a poignant reminder that life can be both fragile and joyful, happy and sad all at once. They’re for everyone who wants to remember a loved one, for everyone who wants to reconnect with the kid inside, and for everyone who wants to play with color.

In other words, they’re for you and for me and for little brothers everywhere.

A discount just for newsletter subscribers

To celebrate the release of Jeff’s Groovy 70s Socks, I am delighted to give you a introductory discount that’s especially for newsletter subscribers :

10% off yarn kits (which include the pattern)
or
25% off the pattern, if you’d like to knit from stash!

If you click either link above, you won’t need to enter any code at all. It’ll be pre-loaded for you. 😉

If you’d like to buy the pattern on Ravelry, click here, and the code will be pre-loaded, too.

(FYI, if something goes awry, the code for patterns is littlebrother and the code for kits is littlebrotherkits)

I’ve hand-dyed three color sets (a total of 8 different colors) that will make scrumptious, playful, kid-like tube socks for you to wear or gift. The yarn is my Cashmere Blend base (a super-luxurious merino/cashmere/nylon with 20% cashmere in it). I make my own socks out of this base and I can safely tell you: they are the best thing ever. They’re soft, and plump, and wear just as well as my regular merino/nylon socks. I disregard my own washing advice and I actually machine wash them (but always air dry) and they’ve held up perfectly well.

These yarn colors are super playful, and I’ve tapped into all the joy and irritation of being a big sister to make these sets for you.

It’s close-cart time for two things in the shop …

If you’ve had your eye on joining my yarn subscription club -or- preordering some of my Winter Blues colorways (any of these would mean a present to future you, arriving in late February/early March) … now is the time to decide.

I’ll be closing preorders on Monday morning (as soon as I get to my desk and am fully caffeinated), so that I can order enough base yarn.

Y’all, these blues are giving me life. The flat, grey winter light? Not so much.

Friends, I am absolutely positively rooting for you (and for me) to hold our loved ones dear, to feel the absences, and to let joy and sunlight in. There are just a few things I know to be true in life, and one of them is that love, joy and grief co-exist. We can feel the happiness and sadness, all at once.

One of my favorite poets, Ka’ala, a native Hawaiian author, teacher and musician says it this way:

i want to feel it all –

and i want it all to feel me.

—ka’ala