Personal | These shoes.

I’ve said it countless times in the past 5 weeks in my daily conversations … “I hope you never have to walk in my shoes”.  And what I’m referring to is just one small aspect of my life, and that’s dealing with the grief that I’ve termed love & loss. It just sounds better to me. The word grief just sounds depressing.  So I’ll refer to it as love & loss from here on out, if that’s ok with everyone.

So onto my journey of love & loss.  I’ve read every single card, message, text, e-mail, fb message and voicemail in the past 5 weeks.  The words are encouraging to me and every message leaves me feeling a little more loved and a little bit stronger. But even in my strongest moments, I don’t wish the experience of love & loss on anyone.  It lives with me day after day, it’s waiting for me when I wake up in the morning, and it tucks itself in with me every single night, even though it hasn’t been invited.  I have moments where I just want to feel “normal” again.  I want my heart to stop hurting, and I want to feel like I can breathe.

But you know what?  It’s amazing – this experience of love & loss. And I honestly thought I knew who I was at the age of 42.  I had my while life meticulously planned out for me. I had a family that I loved, a devoted husband, a dream career, a beautiful house, a car that was great on gas and a remote start.  I was a great mom who kept a clean and organized home, I made dinner with quality food most nights, I had incredibly fun girlfriends in my life, I felt safe and secure with all these comforts and because of this, I fell comfortably into a place where I was free to be myself.

And then October 19th happened. 

And because of that one day I realized … I had no idea who I really was. Not a clue.  In fact, looking back now I am a completely different person that I was on October 18th when he was still here.  Completely different.  Most days I feel like an awkward 12 year old struggling to “fit in”. Or sometimes the fear of raising two young children on my own and growing old without someone to hold me consumes every minute of my day and leaves me feeling paralyzed.  Death has had that kind of affect on me.  But deep down inside, I’ve been able to discover who I really am.  Strong and confident, even if a little bit broken now.

I know I’m the exception. I know that not every person who’s lost their spouse has had an experience like mine.  After all, love & loss is the most personal journey anyone could ever experience. But I can honestly say mine has been … beautiful.  Yes, beautiful.  I’ve been lifted up by those around me.  And when I didn’t think I could, they would carry me. On my most hopeless days, someone does something that is so incredibly generous or thoughtful that it literally replaces that ache in my heart with joy.  I can almost physically feel it happening.  It’s amazing. And that is beautiful.  I feel that I’ve been given a certain “grace” during these first 5 weeks. And I’m still trying to figure out what I did to deserve that.  Because I’m grateful for it every single day.  The only thing I can think of is that I loved him with my whole heart.  I chose him, and he chose me.  And together we chose happiness.  And that our happiness together is stronger than ever and lives on even after he is gone.  And that is enough for me to feel grateful that I’ve had the chance to walk in these shoes.

So from now on, I’m going to stop saying “I hope you never walk in my shoes”.  Because I hope that everyone does get the chance to walk in my shoes.  Not for the love & loss that I’ve experienced  … but for the love.

PS. If you don’t like bare feet, you’ll probably not like this post.  Look away, and simply read the words instead.

PSS.  These are from my phone, not my big girl camera so they are all fuzzy and stuff.

PSSS. I love my Hunter boots.