Shoes

Today my undoing was a pair of shoes. 
Yesterday I sorted some bags of things and in them was a pair of Zach’s shoes. I was in a spot that I could just start getting rid of things that won’t be functional for anyone- a hat we bought in England that was unraveling and Zach’s shoes.

And then they sat in the kitchen trash. This morning a wave of nausea would hit me every time I opened the lid of the trash can. I took Scott’s slippers out. I just couldn’t do it.

But the trash was piling up and it wasn’t going to burn itself. So I had a plan. Before my shower today I would just do it. Stop thinking about it and do it. Old clothe, Scott’s sweatshirt, coat and gloves. I burned another bag of stuff first. The fire was roaring in the burn barrel. I threw the bag in. 

It wasn’t these shoes. I can’t find a picture of the shoes. I looked. I just love this picture of these brothers.

And I wept. His shoes. He didn’t need them anymore. Oh I want him to need those beat up shoes. I want him to ski to school and tell me his new big coat is too warm and hug me and help me cook. I want him to need the shoes. But he doesn’t.
There’s something so final about burning. Setting things on the curb to go into a landfill you can still picture your things mostly intact just in a messy jumble. Burning they are reduced to ashes. Nothing. Gone. Not shoes anymore.

There would be no point in keeping them. What else would I do? But the pain bubbled out and the dog came and drew near and I was glad for his furry closeness.

And the reality is if it wasn’t shoes it would be something else. The marriage seminar I don’t need to attend. The song that hits too close to home. The small amount of food I need to make. The fact that our egg consumption does not keep up with our need for kindling (the trays make great fire starter).

But this morning it was shoes.

6 thoughts on “Shoes

    1. I do understand I am in awe of the way you can put what I feel in to words.
      I do know the pain of watching the treasures of George leave.
      It feels as if you are loosing them all over.
      It is just this time you know what is coming to you in the wave of sorrow .

      Like

  1. Julie, I have shared your blog with two other women in my life who have lost their husbands in the last year in the hope it will give them insight and comfort.
    My prayers continue daily for you, Josh and Sam and for eternal rest and perpetual light for Scott, Kaitlyn and Zach. — Maggie’s Mom, Jan

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Julie,
    I’m cousin Chris Smit’s wife Theresa and I just wanted to send my sympathies for what you’re going through. You’re brave! You’re in our prayers.

    Like

  3. Julie, I have prayed for you and your boys since Vickie and Becky first told me the plane went down.
    I am here at Brent and Becky’s now and Becky told me about your blog.
    Thank you writing, for using words for the vulnerability linked to the solidity of the Word.

    Like

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