That vest she never finished

Spoiler alert: this is the completed vest she never finished

"Do you have a good pattern for a plain men's vest" asked Mum.

She had come across some Cleckheaton Country Naturals 8ply yarn for a bargain price at a local opportunity shop. It was soft grey with flecks of brown and orange, not enough to knit a full jumper but more than enough for a basic vest in a style that Dad would wear.

I trawled through my stash of vintage patterns. Dad wouldn't want anything fancy. Plain stocking stitch or rib, maybe a cable if it wasn't too elaborate.

Something practical, as he would no doubt eventually end up wearing it out on the farm and get it caught on a fence. Something that was easy to mend.

We finally settled on a 1940s plain wool vest from a pattern leaflet produced by the Victorian CWA titled "WarWorkers WoolCraft".

It was late September when I dropped the leaflet at her house on my way to work. 

She cast on the stitches for the back while we had a cup of tea.

The plan was to quietly knit the vest while Dad was out working on the farm or when he went to fishing club and put it away as a Christmas gift.

I left her happily knitting.

The first week of November that year Dad went to work on the farm as usual, but this time he didn't come home. To say we were devastated at his very unexpected passing is definitely an understatement. 

After the funeral Mum packed away all his things and stored the unfinished vest, pattern, needles and yarn in one of those zippered plastic covers that you buy a bedspread in.

It went into the back of a cupboard.

It was not forgotten, but rather ignored and avoided. Perhaps she had plans to unravel and reuse the yarn or one day, when the grief had subsided a little or to finish it as either a gift for a new recipient or perhaps as a donation to a local charity shop.

Then a little over a year ago Mum passed away. Much like Dad, much sooner than we had  expected.

After her funeral I was packing her extensive stash of yarn into boxes. There was a lot, far more than she could ever had hoped to knit in two lifetimes. Mostly acrylics to be given away or donated.

A few dozen balls of lovely pure wool and some vintage skeins made it into my own stash of yarn, as well as a box of things she had knitted but not yet sewn together or finished. She hated the sewing up and the adding of arm and neck bands.

Among this was the bag containing Dad's unfinished vest.....

The pattern, needles, yarn and almost completed vest were all neatly packed just waiting for someone to finish it.. 

But like Mum, I did not yet have the heart to complete it, so into another cupboard it went.

It sat there, in the cupboard for over a year.

Every now and then I took it out, sniffing the knitted fabric to smell the last remnants of Mum's perfume, a mix of lavender hand lotion, white satin  and a small companion dog.

Several times I took a deep breath and played with the yarn and needles to try to match Mum's knitting tension which was always somewhat looser than mine.

It took me some time but recently I finally found the heart to pick up Mum's stitches and finish the front.

You can be sure few tears were shed as I sewed it together and added the bands.

Still more were shed as I rinsed and blocked the finished garment, removing the last of Mum's scent, a mix of lavender, Tweed and Red Door perfumes mixed with a little second-hand smoke and dog hair.

So now I have a finished vest.

It has gone from the vest she never finished to the vest he never wore.

It's a little shorter in the body than a modern garment, but Mum was right, Dad would most certainly have worn it. 

It is plain and practical. Easily as wearable today over a pair of jeans or a skirt as it would have been over a soldier's uniform or Homefront garb in the 1940s.

There is a little yarn left so I may one day make a matching beanie hat or perhaps some gloves.

But that's a project for another day....