I just fell in love with him. He’s about 3 inches tall and has a leather backpack and a pipe. It’s not just that I love little crafts like this. This fox reminds me of cross country skiing with my family in Northern BC in the early 70’s. Dad would have a leather backpack containing delicious sandwiches by Mom and the hot chocolate thermos. His pipe was a constant.
Sewing can be a form of meditation if you approach it right. If the sewing project you are working on is not too complicated the mindless repetitiveness of making the stitches can be very relaxing. And when the project is done you will have a handmade item that was created with your healing hands. Hands are wonderful tools of healing. You knew that, right? [source]
As I sit beside my father, who has entered the final chapter of his life, I sew. It’s all I can do that feels like it lends an air of peace. I try to write. I just seem to stare at the pen. I do tidy up a bit and clean his space and help him take a sip of cranberry juice. I’ll lift the dog, Tobey, into his bed so he can pet him. I watch Dad reach into the air for things he sees but I do not see. But it’s when I just sit and sew a sock monkey that he seems most peaceful. He knows I’m being industrious. He likes that. I posted the following on FB two days ago:
Ever doubted the power of the sock monkey? I just spent a peaceful couple of hours with my dad watching the debate and just being. He looked over as I was sewing a pink monkey and, through his morphine haze, raised his power fist and said, “that is wonderful.” “Fucking rights, Pappa.” and we laughed.
I made Dad a HEAL sock monkey last February when he went in for a large procedure. It’s been hanging out with him ever since.