Eskimimi At Christmas

I haven’t updated this site in a while now. After a couple of works of an excessively stressful workload in my day job leading to exhaustion and a spell of – let’s call it what it is – depression, I lost my grandmother last week to a short but swift illness after a long period of slowly declining health.

My birthday was this weekend just gone, and I had thought at the time how sad it would be to not receive a card from my grandmother this year. My grandparents were the biggest familial influence on my life and so when my grandmother passed away it understandably meant that one of the inspirations and teachers of my creativity had left me.

As I sat wrapped lazily in my bedclothes on my birthday morn I half-heartedly opened the first of my cards. The envelope having been written by someone else hadn’t prepared me for that first card I was about to open to be from my grandmother. Her shaky handwriting belied how weak she had become at the end of her life, but her last message to me shall be cherished, when I am able to finish reading it. At the time I felt too crushed at the loss to finish reading the words of love which she has written to me, but I have the card saved safely in a drawer for when I am able to read and absorb her message in full.

I’ve not been able to find the strength quite yet to bring back the joy and inspiration to this site that it deserves, so I am going to wait for the heaviness of recent events to lift slightly and post again when I feel that I am able to share the joy of a life full of beauty and creativity rather than make half-hearted posts trying to find a way to express a delight that I perhaps to not truly feel.

I am still creating in a small way, knitting rounds and rounds of stockinette for a sweater that I know I will enjoy once finished, but that does not require or benefit from any involved description or discussion of hours of mindless TV knitting. But I am still quietly enjoying the comfort that my knitting brings, and part of this is recalling the joy that my grandmother (nan) found in my knitting and creativity.

And, despite everything, I am really looking forward to Christmas tomorrow, where I shall feel so thankful for the love and support of my friends and loved ones, Giantmonk, and above all my most wonderful and supportive fiancé. I shall look forward to all the wonderful things to create and enjoy in the coming year and all of the adventures that lay ahead in the next twelve months, including getting married in July!

To you and your families I wish you the very best of the season, with warmth and love x x x

7 thoughts on “Eskimimi At Christmas”

  • I am so sorry to hear about your grandmother passing. So glad that she had such a wonderful influence on your life. Remember that this time of year is a hard one for depression already, much less when you have lost someone dear to you. Try to put as little stress on yourself as possible for a while. Be patient, you will come out on the other side!

  • I’m sorry your nan passed away. I’m glad you received your birthday note from her, what a precious gift.

    Peaceful thoughts and blessings for the holidays and the new year!

  • sorry about your grandmother. take it easy on yourself and try to enjoy the small things. perhaps as you knit remembering all the special things she taught you and did with you will help you feel better.
    above all give yourself time

  • I’m de-lurking after a very long time of happily following your blog to tell you that I’m very sorry for your loss. I don’t have fond memories of my grandparents, or most of my relatives in general (dysfunction), but I know that I too will be paralyzed with grief when my parents time comes. Your loss must be vivid and gaping right now.

    Having lived with clinical depression for going on 20 years now (I’m 35), I can tell you that you’re on the right track. You’re cutting yourself some slack, allowing yourself to process and heal. You’re being open about where you are, and I’m pretty sure you’re taking advantage of your support system(s). That said, I know… it sucks. And I hope it gets better some day soon, and that the joy creeps back in sooner than you think it might. Your bravery and spirit is a beautiful thing.

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