The video from the link above prompted this piece of writing...
The shoes.
I was okay until I saw the shoes.
Unless you've had the unfortunate experience of walking out of a hospital with nothing but your spouse’s shoes shoved inside one of those pathetic “patient's belongings” bags, I’m not sure you can appreciate the significance of the shoes.
In life, shoes can take on several meanings whether we are walking in someone else’s shoes, waiting for the other shoe to drop, or simply longing for a pair of shoes we hope will alleviate back pain or complement our favorite outfit.
In death, they take on an entirely different meaning.
In death, they take on an entirely different meaning.
On the afternoon of August 14, 2015, I walked into my house carrying nothing but Marv’s shoes (and what was left of his shorts the medics had cut off him). When my friend Annette greeted me at the door, I held up the aforementioned bag and said, “This is all that’s left, Nette.”
In that moment, it was a miserable truth that unintentionally captured the injustice my children and I had witnessed just hours before.
Later, I would realize that the shoes shoved in that bag in no way represented all Marv had left for us. But in the moment, the unidentifiable shreds of his shorts did a much better job reflecting the way I felt.
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