Forgotten Shoes.

While walking my Dog the other day, I saw a pair of shoes that were abandoned on the side of the path.  It makes me wonder when I see discarded footwear.  A sneaker here, a flip-flop there.  I can understand a lost sweater or jacket.  I have personally taken off a jacket because I was too hot, and the jacket slipped out of my hands without me realizing it, gone forever.

But shoes?  I’m curious how you can take them off and not realize it?  At what point do you notice that you are walking in only your socks, and you don’t know where your shoes are?

I wish grief could be like those abandoned shoes.  I sometimes wish that the hurt would just go away, and I wouldn’t even register that there was a piece of my life missing.  Grief, however, is not like that.  It is pretty much always there.  I get more adept at carrying the weight of grief, and at times it is barely noticeable, but it is always there.  I may even be learning to appreciate the weight of grief.  It is a weight you always carry, and always want to carry. 

The weight of grief makes me a kinder person.  I know how fragile relationships are and how precious my time with people is.  I don’t hold grudges the way I once might have.  Life is too short for that.  I also acknowledge that I don’t know what’s going on in someone else’s world.  I’ve lived through having my world implode, and I appreciated people who were kind to me during that time.  I try harder now to do the same, to be a light in a dark world.

The weight of grief makes me a more thankful person.  I notice and appreciate little things that I looked over in the past, but I also actively search out gratitude.  I try to make a conscious effort to think of things that brought a smile to my face.  I don’t want to let those little moments pass me by.  It is easy for me to get caught up in chasing the big picture of happiness; forgetting to recognize the moments of joy that sneak into my life unannounced. 

The weight of grief reminds me that I loved deeply and had a special connection with someone dear to me.  In our fast-paced world, it is important to be reminded that connections with people are necessary to our survival.  It would be easy to not want to develop bonds of love with others to avoid the hurt that may come in the future, but that robs our contentment in the present.

There is sometimes a strange duality to grief:  I get caught between the fear of having to carry the weight of grief vs the fear of forgetting my person.  I was afraid that I wouldn’t be able to bear the loss, but if I set it down, I wouldn’t pick it back up again.  I am learning that forgetting is not an option.  I know for a fact that the sun will come up each morning.  I know for a fact that my loved one will remain in my memory, and that they are etched into the fabric of my being.

Losing a loved one obviously isn’t the same as losing a pair of shoes.  Forgotten shoes are unusual, but it happens.  If I think about the number of sneakers and flip-flops I’ve seen randomly lying around, maybe it happens more often than I first realized.  But I don’t think forgetting a loved one is even possible.  We are wired to remember love.  That is why losing it hurts so much.  We don’t forget the love we have for that person, but we learn to transition from loving in the flesh to loving in the heart and mind.  We remember and we feel it in our soul.  A love like that can never be forgotten.