My mother used to knit socks. I was fascinated by the dpns and the little bobbins of yarn dangling down. She mostly made argyle socks for her father. When he passed away 30 years ago, the last socks he wore were a pair that Mom knit.
My father passed away last week. He didn't have much of anything appropriate to wear as his last clothing. My brother was looking through his dresser drawers and pulled out a pair of socks I'd knit him for Father's Day. He said that they would be one thing that would be worn. The strange thing was, he didn't know about Grandpa wearing the socks that Mom had knit. The shades of brown in the stripey socks gave my brother a color palatte for the other clothing he got. They didn't show, but it was oddly nice to have given him one last handmade gift.
Rest in peace, Dad.
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