Please Protect Your Knees
A novice griever explores forgiveness, regret, and reasons to wear knee pads
Penned April 6, 2025 by Penny Sue Denim
Yesterday I held a robust discussion on social media about forgiveness. Eight or ten friends and acquaintances chimed in at various depths of engagement depending on their willingness to personally tackle the concept versus simply regurgitating platitudes they’ve resonated with over time.
And it’s okay because I’m leaning toward a view where grief and forgiveness are one and the same or two sides of the same coin. Or something like that. So, if the processes (of grief and forgiveness) are synonymous—though I’m not saying they are—but if they are, well, we all know (or could know, or one day will know) that no two bereavements are the same. So, I gently propose that no two forgivenesses are the same either.
As a novice griever, I’ve come to understand how deeply personal grief is. There’s no one-size-fits-all. I’ve heard stories of other grievers taking offence at comments that would have comforted me, while I’ve felt offended by concepts that I know have comforted other grievers.
One day in my early grief, I looked up at the moon sitting in the daytime sky. With that celestial body so obviously there but so untouchable, I had a sudden and extreme craving to know where my husband was. Later, seeking comfort or validation in my community, I posted this question with a photo of the moon to my social media. I haven’t experienced a lot of offence in my grief, but I was quite taken aback by those who commented that, no, he wasn’t as far away as that moon, and he was actually as close to me as my heart. For me, it had been a rhetorical question. Maybe I should have made that more clear. Still, I believe such responses may have comforted some grievers I’ve encountered.
So, your salve is my platitude. And my salve is your crass comment. And that’s just how it is.
But I must digress. Because I had a point; a reason to pick up my pen. (Okay. Phone.)
Right.
So, yesterday I engaged more deeply than ever—and in community—with the topic of forgiveness. And this morning, I woke up in a world where Robben still existed. He was leaving. He was going away on a long trip. And I loved him, and I was sad. So heartbroken that he was taking this trip and I couldn’t go. The girls and I couldn’t go.
I’ve done the long-distance thing with him before—in the early years when affection came easy—and I know the sorrow of distance and separation from my beloved.
This dream I woke up with; it brought emotions that replaced the long-standing void of recent days, weeks, months. This void, not a felt emptiness. Just nothingness. A numbness.
The sadness that accompanied this dream; it replaced a deep restlessness, resentfulness, rawness. Unnameable, though I’m always naming things.
At breakfast, I said to my daughter, in front of her sleepover buddy, her best friend: “I’m not going to tell you what to do, but knowing how much you love rollerblading, gymnastics, volleyball, I’m going to recommend that you choose to wear your protective equipment. You don’t have to, but man! Your knees are so precious to you. It makes me sad to think of you injuring what brings you so much joy.”
She said, “Are you crying?”
This is my stoic barely-a-teen.
“Yeah. I guess.” I said, swiping away at one or two tears making their gentle trail southward. I went to grab a Kleenex. I didn’t want it to get too awkward for these poor kids.
“I just think about all the things you love, and it would break my heart if you lost them.”
“And it’s making you cry?” she said, a little incredulous.
“I guess. I woke up this morning; I’d had a dream about your dad, which doesn’t usually happen. I guess I just miss him.”
“Anyways, I’m just saying: Please protect your knees.”
~ ps denim
🎶 With accompaniment from My Unapologetic Playlist 🎶
The B-sides and the Besides
Companion stories from the bewilderness and/or words from others wanderers
The Crime of Sitting Together by Penny Sue Denim
Frames that Linger by Frames that Linger
The picnic blanket & the bluetooth speaker
Dear reader: Let’s travel the world through each other’s eyes—and let’s sit down to eat together. Whether wading through grief, exploring equity, trying on theology, navigating the modern dating scene, pressing into parenthood, or taking some other deeply human journey. What we all have in common is that we need each other.
The great thing about digital travel is that here, what you pack in, you don’t have to pack out. You’re encouraged to leave something behind. That’s what builds community.
When you click the cute little ❤️ below, unpack your thoughts in a comment, or give this little story a Restack, it’s like you picked up a souvenir just for me. You can also find me on Notes. Let’s keep exploring together.
Penny, “Please protect your knees” becomes far more than parental advice; it is grief trying to keep one small, preventable loss from joining the unpreventable one you already carry. The dream returns Robben as someone leaving, and by breakfast that sorrow has moved into a plea for your daughter to guard the body that lets her do what she loves. Your meditation on forgiveness widens into something quieter: learning to live with the limits of protection without allowing regret to become another bereavement. I am grateful for the honesty and restraint with which you allowed a conversation about forgiveness to arrive at love’s most ordinary and heartbreaking request.
My wife has been ill lately, with a very bad knee scrape that on the day after it healed turned into a painful yeast infection covering her body. She has little energy, but is improving very, very slowly., Reading of your agony after your husband’s cruelly early death gave me strength to put my worries into a proper perspective. I bless you for your courage and goodness.