Guest Blog by My Twin, Tara - Hard News

I am struggling tonight as I just heard that my Dad's father, Poppy, fell and broke his hip tonight. I got to speak to him briefly, but he was already sounding a bit doped, as they'd given him some pain meds. He's 88. Essentially he is the absolute heart and soul of our family. He is our centre. We've all come from him, look to him, and owe him a debt of some kind. Some emotional kind. He is an orphan who got to live his version of a dream by creating a giant, sprawling family. His village is the place I fondly refer to as my 'ancestral homeland'.

When he had a stroke, more than 12 years ago, I was lucky enough to be there to ride in the ambulance with him the almost two hour ride into the city. He soon after learned to use a computer for the first time (since he could no longer build boats and fix engines) and wrote his memoirs. We happen to be currently in the process of ordering family copies of his updated version of the memoirs (280 pages, which include the history of the community in Newfoundland where he lived, and also, of our family tree as it grew).

Around 3 years ago, I was there the night he had a heart attack, and shared in the sense of blame we all nursed about him eating a 'big feed of salmon and having some wine'. Later he had to remind us more than once that having a good feed, and a drink from time to time was one of life's pleasures, and in his late 80's that was no small thing. His nickname in our family and the community is the Skipper. This is a respected term, as he has captained more than a few boats. No matter that I am 40, I will never be ready to lose my grandfather. Tonight, as I await news, I am tearful and bereft. We are all children when it comes to facing the fragility or mortality of our elders. I have been so fortunate in reaching 40 with 3 grandparents still in my life, but strangely, this in no way makes me feel prepared for any kind of bad. Here's wishing my Poppy safety through the night and I guess I thank the universe for this yucky reminder of what is most, most important to me and many of us.

xo Tara

The Fruits of my Knitting Frenzy

These are the amateur but much appreciated results. (note the pattern is the same though size, colour, function altered - manly afghan for Poppy, feminine walker seat cover for Nanny) Managed to finish these during my two weeks in Newfoundland for the family reunion/65th wedding anniversary celebration. While others were dancing and whooping it up, I'd be in the corner knitting frantically to the music, to get my offerings wrapped up before the big reveal. NEXT UP: something for my beloved maternal grandmother who supervised and assisted with some of my joining stitches. Not that she couldn't knit whatever I come up with in a quarter of the time and 100% better!
I love the continuity my grandparents give me. As someone who moved almost every year until pretty recently, I'm often amazed that they all still live in the very houses that they did when I was born. You can't buy that kind of anchor. Poppy has written and published his memoirs for the family. I keep hoping my stitches won't unravel, but will hold firm.

Knitting with my Nannies in Newfoundland

My Nannies are my grandmothers. I have two, and one grandfather (Poppy) here in Newfoundland where I have come for two weeks. After a frenzied week of preparing for a clan gathering where we hosted approximately 300 guests at a hugely successful 65th wedding anniversary reunion, I am just now coming down from the high of family time, and getting enough sleep to be coherent. Cousins came from all over Canada and the US but now are trickling away in small groups every day. I'll be the last one left.

It's hard to be the last one left, as the mood shifts from fun and frivolity to nostalgia and guilt over not staying longer, even though you've been here the longest.

I don't know anyone with three grandparents left at my age. I was 30 before I lost my first one. They are the anchors for me and my family. I know in my mind it can't be, but in my heart, I still think they will live forever.

Knitting frantically during every spare moment has left my hands cramped, but provided more of that moving mediation that I have sought this year. There's less of a caloric burn, but it's still effective. I've finished knitting a small masculine throw/afghan for Poppy, to put over his lap when he's booting around on his scooter. He likes to get out, but with poor circulation, he gets cold. My project has taken me more time than it would have either of my Nannies, but he will know I did it. The flaws are not subtle - it is clearly my creation. But, he will also know how much of me, how many thoughts and memories I had time for as I clicked away on the 4.5 sized needles, cramming a month's worth of knitting into one short week.

Now, I'm stitching it together. It doesn't look as polished as I'd like, but I love the feel of the high quality European yarn, and the colours, blocks of shimmery gray with deep brown and blue make me happy. I'd like to wrap him in it and keep him safe forever.