How I Found The Positive in Grief, One Stitch At A Time

I've tried different ways of handling grief. I love the challenge of redirecting all of the negative energy from it and turning it into something positive and useful. Of course, things don't always progress the way I hope, but that's okay. Sometimes it takes trial and error. Either way, it feels good to know I have the power and the freedom to switch things up when I'm ready and at least try to create more of a sustainable balance in my life. I find it gives me a sense of control and helps me to feel more hopeful.

One of my most devastating experiences with grief was the moment I found out my soulmate, Reuben, died. Reuben and I met in our younger years when I moved back to England to study nursing. He really was the rarest and most caring soul I'd ever met. We became best friends pretty quick. Before we knew it we were in love and engaged. Engaged to be married, yes, but also fully engaged with everything to do with each other. I remember looking deep into his eyes, when he put the ring on my finger, and thinking I could not imagine my life without this person. I remember, that at that very moment, I could not remember what life was like before him.

One of our favorite things to do was cruise around the outskirts of London in his old hatchback while blasting our favorite tunes and taking in all of the lovely sights. His dream car was a Jaguar. I can't remember what kind of car he actually drove at the time, but I'll never forget how he always referred to it as his "old banger" that "gets us from a-z."

We both shared a passion for great architecture. I remember the day he drove me around for hours and hours, determinately searching for this pink mansion he'd seen in passing. Eventually, we found it! I recall that it was night-time but, due to the spotlights that lit up the house from the outside, I could still see all of the beautiful shades of pink. Very exquisite.

On this one particular day we were out cruising around in the old banger when Reuben suddenly pulled over to the side of the road. I had no clue why he was stopping, but I noticed he seemed to be parking rather close to the quarreling going on just a few feet away. To my shock and horror, my guy hopped out of the car and walked straight towards this group of angry people. They were literally screaming at each other. As I devotedly kept my focus on him, I felt around for the bag of crisps I had stashed in the glove compartment and popped it open. I munched intensely as I sat watching Reuben gracefully refold the drama he had walked right into. I was in total awe of my love's intervention. It was kindness at it's best. After about five very long minutes, he returned to the car and proceeded to carry on with our drive. Cool as a cucumber. That was definitely not the only fight he broke up. I was always nervous that he might have ended up getting hurt, but he never did. People respected him. They listened to him. I used to say he was probably a referee in a previous life.

As for the details surrounding the end of our engagement, it's complicated. Still, for you to be able to understand the extent of hopelessness I felt after learning about his death, I think it might help if you know a few facts about where things stood between us surrounding his death. I wasn't with him when it happened. We lived in different countries. I had been searching for him for 10 long years. We had lost touch when his phone number changed, and mine changed shortly after. Last time we spoke, he had lost both kidneys and was living on dialysis. I raised our son alone. Reuben died before they got a chance to meet. I wrote to the Salvation Army, literally begging them to help me find him, but they said they were unable to help. During a routine Google search, I found out he had died the previous year. There was a letter found in his belongings that he had written to me not long before he died. The letter said that he needed to speak to me as soon as possible. We never got to have that conversation.

When I Googled his name and followed the links that lead to a sketching of him, and saw the word "late" typed next to his name, that was when it all hit me. It was as if I'd been slammed in the gut with a sledge hammer. Automatic, instant shock! I opened my mouth and felt my soul wailing, but it was as if I were crying in reverse. No sound could come out. I could not breathe.

When I eventually caught my breath, the sounds that came out of me were sounds that I never even knew I had in me. Wailing and gasping, and then more wailing. I felt so incredibly weak. Then hysterics kicked in with the wailing, causing even more breathlessness. I was a plethora of so many emotions all wrapped into one. I truly believe that was the day that I gained full understanding of what a meltdown feels like. I had such a hard time accepting that this was the end, and that our son's chance of ever meeting his father had completely vanished.

After hiding in my room, curled up in fetus position for about a week, aimlessly crying out his name to the air, I felt completely lost and defeated. I did not know what to do with myself. Then came even more days of pure gut-wrenching crying and utter dismay. At some point, I realized I needed to keep myself busy. Life had taught me that. I didn't have the motivation or brain power to think very much about it. Knitting was the first thing that came to mind, so I searched around my apartment, but couldn't find my knitting needles. It had been a couple of decades since I last used them, so I gave up pretty quick. Clearly, it was time for a trip to Walmart. I decided to buy a crochet hook instead. It was cheaper, and I really didn't intend on making anything special. I just knew I needed to engage in something therapeutic, and washing dishes was definitely out of the question.

I kind of locked myself away, but crocheted every single day. Lots happened after learning about Reuben's death. The relationship I was in at the time even went sour. Then one fine day, I received a surprising request for a crocheted hat that a dear friend wanted made. She offered to pay me to do the honors. I was so delighted. She ended up ordering two, so I whipped them up and allowed her to set the price. Not long after that, a woman with a shop asked me to run a table with my items for a cancer fundraiser. I was so happy to participate, and donated 2 hats to the cause.

A few months later, in attempt to keep the positivity flowing, I bought a canopy and started setting up a booth at events. The cancer fundraiser request really motivated and inspired me. Having a booth set up in the parks, surrounded by nature, added wonders to my self-healing. My therapy was slowly turning into a business.

I eventually opened up an online crochet shop for my crocheted items and decided to sell my baked goods at the events instead. The crocheted items didn't sell much at the events, but people sure love to eat! I soon became known as "Focaccia Lady" with many returning customers.

In no time, I was making custom-made one-of-a-kind items. The loveliest of all was, by far, the unicorn my neighbor ordered for her little girl. Seeing that child's eyes light up, when she met her new bestie, really made my heart the fullest. I felt as if I'd literally brought the yarn to life.

Looking back, it really all happened really quick and quite smoothly. I had no idea how or where to start, but made the decision to allow myself to go with the flow, and send some of the big bad bereavement energy into a positive direction. It all bloomed so lovely, just like a flower. Since then, when bereavement hits, I've been determined to stay as positive and as focused as I'm able to. I realized the power of taking that first step. A simple attempt at something therapeutic turned into a sweet little business. It made me realize my strengths, at a time when I thought I had none at all, and put me in a place where I am better able to manage my grief when it hits.