My grandma loved knitting. After she died, I learned how it helped her grieve

This is a First Person column by June Wong, who lives in Calgary. For more information about CBC's First Person stories, see the FAQ.

Wind swept across the snowy parking lot at the Gilchrist Gardens retirement home in Calgary. I was just about to drive away when I saw the door open. 

A frail-looking woman pushed her walker outside and down the sidewalk toward a wooden box. Slowly she made her way over, then unlatched the hook on the door and pulled out two balls of yarn — one yellow and one blue. She cradled them in her arms for a moment, then smiled and put them in her walker basket.

I know my grandmother would be smiling, too.

She taught me how something so simple and creative like knitting can help fight grief and loneliness. And that's the story behind these new little boxes called Little Free Fibre Library that I hope will spread all over Calgary.

My grandmother, Sin Fong Ng, was born in China. When she was 50, her husband died and she immigrated to Canada to care for me and my siblings while my parents ran their Chinese restaurant in the small town of Cardston, Alta.

She quickly became like my mother while my mom became like an older sister. My grandmother was my rock. I was a shy child and our bond gave me confidence. I stuck to her, watching what she did, following her on errands and translating for her.

Whenever she was not busy, she would pick up her knitting or crochet and turn on the TV — losing herself in rhythmic productivity and usually a professional wrestling show with the Hart Brothers and the local promoter, Stampede Wrestling. 

But I never really understood why until later.

I stayed close to my grandmother after we moved to Calgary. She flourished there. She made friends with other Asian women and eventually moved to Chinatown to live on her own in her late 70s. 

As a group, they'd hit up all the free Stampede breakfasts. I called them the SABG — Stampede Asian Breakfast Grannies — and admired my grandma's independence and adaptability. 

When she turned 98, we had to help her see that living independently wasn't a good option. It was hard, and we visited her frequently. But she struggled with loneliness and isolation in the new home because she was the only Chinese speaker. 

She took up knitting and watching professional wrestling again, and this time I started to understand why. It kept her grounded, helped her avoid drowning in grief. It was a way to keep going — her energy and emotion transformed into a tangible item.

She lived to get her 100th birthday card from Queen Elizabeth, but passed away that year in 2019.