Schuyler

Sometimes, events take away every bit of what little power life grants us.

A member of an active Ravelry group in which I have participated for the past year recently gave birth. The baby died less than an hour later. There was no indication in advance that this would happen.

They named her Schuyler.

In response, several Ravelers in the group and some beyond have knit blanket squares. A big-hearted soul in Toronto will seam them together and send them to Schuyler’s mom.



As I worked on a square, I began to wonder what I was doing it for. Yes, to bring some comfort to Schuyler’s parents. Yet, is there perhaps some bit of superstitious selfishness at work, too? In knitting one, then two, then three squares for this blanket, isn’t there a small part of me that hopes if I knit these squares as best I can, then perhaps this sort of tragedy will pass me by?



But then, on each square as I approached the cast-off, I decided that no, that would not be the reason I made these squares. That would not be why we are all feverishly working to churn out a huge blanket as fast as our fingers and the post office will let us.

Death leaves us with so little ability to say or do anything. Let’s do the very best that we possibly can, and let the universe know.

Schuyler lived. She was loved.

That cannot ever be changed.