Adapted
by Elisa Pearmain (www.healingstory.org)
Once
upon a time there lived a tailor's son named Joseph. He worked beside his
father in his little shop cutting and stitching clothing for the wealthy folks
in town. As he grew older Joseph began to dream of making something special for
himself to wear. He pictured a warm coat made of colourful fabric. For many
years he saved the few coins that he got from helping his father. Finally he
had enough to buy the cloth that he wanted.
Joseph
went to the market and bought the piece of cloth he had been dreaming of. It
was a warm gray with bits of gold and silver and even a little crimson here and
there. That night while his father was sleeping, he went to the shop. He laid
out the pieces of fabric, and made a careful plan. He measured, then he cut and
he stitched. After several nights of working, the young man had made himself a
fine coat. When the tailor saw the work his son had done he felt proud. “You
are a tailor now in your own right,” he said. “You have done fine work.” Joseph
loved his coat. It was warm and colourful and everyone looked at it. He wore it
everywhere, and the seasons past.
One
afternoon when Joseph had been buying cloth in the market for his father, it
began to rain. It was a cold rain. People were running. He saw a young woman,
about his age. She was wearing only a thin shawl to keep her from the cold. She
looked so sweet that Joseph took off his coat and offered to let her wear it
home. She liked his face too, and within two years Joseph and Anna were
married.
Joseph
made his own tailor shop in the basement of their small apartment. He continued
to wear his coat. He wore it, and he wore it and he wore it, until he had worn
it out. What a sad day that was as he held his coat up, turning it round. He
spoke to Anna in a sad voice, “This old coat, it has meant so much to me, it
was my first dream come true, it made my father proud, it helped me to meet
you, but now there is nothing left, nothing…”
But
then he stopped, “Hee hee”, he laughed out loud, “There is something left, just
enough…” and instead of throwing the coat in the rag bin, he took it to his
workbench and he began to measure, and to cut and stitch. By morning, he had
made a lovely jacket.
He
loved that jacket. He wore it everywhere. Soon his wife gave birth to twin
girls. When they were a year old he looked outside one night and saw the first
snowflakes falling. “Come on girls,” he said, picking them up and tucking one
into each side of his jacket and buttoning them in. “We will go taste the first
snow flakes of winter.” The girls laughed in amazement as the big flakes melted
on their noses and tongues. Joseph was so happy; he danced round and round
holding his two darlings under his warm jacket.
Yes,
he loved that jacket. He wore it for years. He wore it and wore it and wore it,
until one day Anna remarked to him that it was all worn out. That was a sad day
as he held the jacket up. “Old jacket, you've meant so much to me. I'll
never forget how I danced with the twins in the first snow. But there is
nothing left, nothing….”
But
again he stopped, “ Hee hee, what is this I see? There is just enough here, just
enough.” And instead of throwing the jacket into the rag bin, he went to
his workbench and began to measure, and to cut, and to stitch. In the morning
he had made a cap. It was a lovely cap with a small brim and a lining to keep
his head warm in winter.
He
loved that cap. He wore it everywhere. Time past and then his girls were
thirteen years old. It had been a hard year. There was a famine in the land,
the crops were poor, even the rich were not buying new clothes. The tailor's
family had very little to eat, mostly potatoes, cabbage, or a carrot from
Anna's garden, but never anything sweet.
One
day they went into the forest at the edge of the town to collect firewood. All
of a sudden Anna began shouting, “Berries, come see all of the berries!” The
family stuffed their faces with berries, but there were still more. “If only we
had something to carry them in, I would make a pie.” Anna said. What did they
have to carry them in? Joseph's cap! The cap was filled to brimming with
beautiful black berries. Their purple juice left a permanent stain, but the
taste of a berry pie after so much hunger was worth it.
The
years went by again and Joseph continued to wear his hat until one day, he
looked at it, and he realized that it was all worn out. He held the cap,
turning it round, “Old cap, you've meant so much to me, but now there really is
nothing left, nothing, Hee hee,” he laughed. “There's enough here, just enough.”
Instead of throwing it away he went to his workbench and cut and
stitched, until he had made a bow tie.
What
a handsome bow tie it was. He wore it everywhere. He wore it to his daughter's
weddings, and the births of his grandchildren. When his first grandson was old
enough to speak he sat on Joseph's lap and played with his bow tie. “Grand Papa
you have a butterfly on your shirt”, the boy cried. From then on every time he
played with the grandchildren he would take off his bow tie and pretend that it
was a butterfly.
One
day when Joseph's hair had long been gray, he came home from the market and
took off his coat. “Where is your bow tie?” Anna asked him, for he was never
without it. He felt for it, but it was gone. “It must have fallen off.” As fast
as his old legs would let him, he jumped up retraced his steps through the
market place. He went back to every shop asking at each stall. Everyone knew of
his bow tie, but no one had seen it. “I won't give up,” He told Anna. “I have
to find it.” It was not until late in the night that Anna was finally able to
guide old Joseph home, sad and weary. He got into bed without his supper.
The
next day he refused to get up. “What's the use,” he said, “My bow tie, is gone.
The cloth that I loved is gone, now there is nothing left. Nothing. I have been
through so much with that cloth, I feel as if I have lost someone near and
dear.” Joseph did not hear it, but now it was his wife who laughed
quietly. She put on her shawl and went to her daughter's homes. “Bring your
children,” she said. They all came and plopped down on the bed. “Oh I can't
play today,” said Joseph, “I am too sad, I have lost my bow tie, I have lost so
many dear memories.”
“Tell
us about the cloth dad,” said one of his daughters, “Your grandchildren do not
know all of the stories.” “Oh, it is too sad.” He said. “Please Grand Papa,”
The children begged. “Alright, I will” he said slowly. He told them about
making the coat, and making his father proud. He told about putting the coat
over the young woman in the market and meeting his wife. He told about dancing
in the snow with his two young babies. He told about the cap full of berries.
As he recalled all of these memories the tears fell slowly down his cheeks. He
told about wearing the bowtie to his daughters' weddings and the births of his
grandchildren. And his eldest grandchild chimed in, “You made your bow tie into
a butterfly Grand Papa. Maybe it flew away.”
Old
Joseph was quiet for a while. “Yes, it seems that my beloved bow tie did fly
away, but you have helped me to see that the memories I have that are so dear
to me did not. There were just enough memories left in this old noggin to make
a story. And that story will never be lost if you will help me keep it.” Then
Joseph the Tailor hugged his family close and got out of bed. His story was
passed down through many generations.
Notes
I have told this story in a
variety of settings as a way of exploring individual’s experience of loss and
grief.
Using this story with people
with dementia seemed to provide opportunities for individuals to reconnect with
aspects of their lives that had been important to them, and have these personal
stories witnessed by others. In
reconnecting with the object of our loss, perhaps we can redefine our relationship
with it and allow it to live on.
I told this story in a
session with an individual who has a learning difficulty and mental health problem. The idea of death and loss at times seems to
overwhelm him and his referral was based on exploring these issues. As
this story contains familiar and tangible objects, he was perhaps more able to relate
to it. He appeared to follow the process
of the story, seeing the object reduce in size without losing its value and
finally disappear. He appeared to
connect with Joseph’s despair and this in turn seemed to allow him to connect with
and share emotions/pain around his own losses.
I also took this story to a
Dementia Care Home Managers’ Conference.
The number of delegates and the size of the space available meant that two
sessions were run. I repeated the same
session with each group. While there
were many factors that will have influenced their responses, the dynamic and
outcome of each group experience was significantly different. The first group seemed to respond with lots
of playful energy and humour – their shared stories appearing light and often
funny. The second group’s response seemed
to connect with the pain of loss and the group supported those whose emotions seemed
very raw. For me this gave a snapshot of the many different
ways we may respond to loss and grief and how ‘Just Enough’ can facilitate this
journey.
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