Shoes...

A few days ago I was looking for some poems when I was missing you, sweet girl.  Well, I'm ALWAYS missing you, but you know what I mean...  Anyway, I found this poem and I liked it. It's not an accurate metaphor at all, really. The pain of the emptiness in my heart can never be compared to the pain of an ill-fitting pair of shoes.  I'd RELISH some ill-fitting shoes in place of losing you.  I'd give anything in the world for the shittiest shoes if it meant I could still have you here with us.  Regardless, for some reason I like the poem.  It's simple and you don't need to think in order to make the connection, and I guess that's one of the things I like about it.  My head is always filled with "missing you" thoughts, so it was nice to read this, feel validated,and not need to think.

Here is the poem:

THESE SHOES

I wear a pair of shoes.
They are ugly shoes.
Uncomfortable shoes.
I hate my shoes.
Each day I wear them and each day I wish I had another pair.
Some days my shoes hurt so badly that I do not think I can take another step.
Yet, I continue to wear them.

I get funny looks wearing these shoes.
They are looks of sympathy.
I can tell in others' eyes that they are glad they are my shoes and not theirs.

They never talk about my shoes.

To learn how awful my shoes are might make them uncomfortable.
To truly understand these shoes you must walk in them.
But, once you put them on, you can never take them off. 

I now realize I am not the only one who wears these shoes.
There are many pairs in this world.
Some women are like me and ache daily as they try and walk in them.
Some have learned how to walk in them so they don't hurt quite as much.
Some have worn the shoes so long that days will go by before they think about how much they hurt. 

NO WOMAN deserves to wear these shoes. 

They have made me who I am. 

I will forever walk in the shoes of a woman who has lost a child.

Another reason I like the poem is because it's versatile; it applies to any one who has lost a child, in any way.  It could also be used for fathers who have lost a child, which I like.  For myself, though, I'd change the second to last line.  Instead of having it read, "They have made me who I am," I'd change it to, "They will make me who I am."  We're still in the throes of of losing Norah.  It's still all so new.  We're not even two months out from losing our sweet baby girl and I have no idea what this will do to me.  I have no idea who I'll be a year from now.  Will I harden, soften, care less, care more?  I don't know.  Sometimes that's scary.  Sometimes it's hopeful.  I try to be as hopeful as possible.  I do not give up easily.  The other day I was talking to Kevin and told him I don't  understand why I refuse to give up.  When my dad died, it ruined me for a long time.  (It also ruined my credit score...didn't open my mail or pay bills for months, but that's all repaired now.)  What will losing Norah do to me...to us?  I told him that I have every reason in the world to give up.  To wallow in my despair, to give in to depression.  Hell, I'd have every reason to apply for disability, citing major depression due to the loss of my father to suicide and my daughter to stillbirth.  But I don't.  I don't give up.  Is it pride?  Is it hope?  Is it tenacity?  Is it just me being stubborn and willful?  I don't know.  But, I know I'd have every reason to just give up and no one would judge me for it.  They'd understand, given what I've been through, and support it.  But I don't.  

When my dad died I was watching the movie Cast Away a lot.  I don't know, I always found that movie very poignant and moving.  (Being a poor, first-year teacher at the time without cable also prompted the repeated viewing of the few DVD's in my collection....)  In Castaway, when Chuck is back in civilization and "real life" he recalls his time on the island.  He recalls how the thought of Kelly was the only thing that kept him alive.  He wanted to die, but the idea of giving up the slim chance of reuniting with her kept him going.  When he returned to civilization and realized that Kelly had moved on and he really was alone then, had lost her forever, he still did not give up hope.  She was the only shred of hope left in his life, but in the wake of losing her he resolved to keep going and he said this: "I've got to keep breathing because tomorrow the sun will rise and you never know what the tide may bring."  During the darkest time of my life, as it was when I lost my dad, this resonated within me.  I resolved to do what Chuck did.  I needed to keep breathing.  This was the most basic of things that I could actually handle doing at that time.  I just needed to exist and get through that time because, just like Chuck, I knew that at some point the darkness in my life would give way to lighter, better times - the sun would rise.   I didn't know what those better times would bring, but I just knew that there is an ebb and a flow in life.  You cannot have joy without sorrow.  You love and live more fully, knowing what darkness and pain are.  The darkness is what shapes us, give us character, strength, and resolve.  I've been immersed in that darkness now, twice.  After my dad died the darkness prevailed for a while but then light entered again.  His name is Kevin.  Such a pure, sweet love he has for me.  I thought I knew love before.  I thought I had experienced my one, true love of a lifetime, but that love quickly ran out as my depression waned on.  That love did not withstand the loss of my father and got swallowed up in the darkness after my he died.   I thought that I would make do with wonderful friends and family for the rest of my days, but not find such a love again.  How wrong I was.  The Sun rose in my life and brought Kevin to me.  Then it brought out sweet, sweet Norah.  We were so excited for her.  We loved her so much.  We still do.  We always will.  The darkness that once consumed my life was gone.  There were storm clouds in the vast horizon, a reminder of what I lost, but beyond that sliver of darkness was a light like I had never known.  I was convinced that I had paid my dues and that this next chapter of my life - the marriage chapter...the Norah chapter - would be sun-filled and shining.  I guess I got too much sun too quickly.  The scales tipped too far in my favor...too much ying, not enough yang.  For whatever reason, I am here again, in the blackness.  This time, though, it's not nearly as scary.  I miss my dear, sweet girl so much.  I always do.  I always will.  But I know this darkness.  I know it will eventually give way to rays of light.  It must.  It is the natural order of things.  And after this dark time we will be joyful again.  I know the sun will rise.  I don't know what the tide will bring, but I know it will be something wonderful. I never knew that Kevin and Norah would wash up on the shores of my life, but they did and they are beautiful miracles that I treasure with all my being.  The next wave of my life will be just as sweet...and maybe sweeter in ways I can't yet fathom.  That is the nature of life.  You endure the bad to get the good, and those who endure the worst reap the best in the end.  So, that is why I must keep breathing.  I want to know what the tide will bring and I want to share with those around me what the darkness has taught me, so they have Hope to keep breathing too.