In Her Shoes

I can never fill my Mother’s shoes but I can wear them.

Shortly after my Mother passed I went to my parents house to look through her things. My sister and I were able to pick out the jewelry and handbags that we wanted to keep. When I got to the house I was afraid. I had never been in my parents house knowing my Mother would not return.

Her clothes and shoes were in the same place she left them but it made my heart sink to know that her things were there, but she was not. I went to my parents' bedroom to keep myself from crying and my Dad was there. He provided a sense of comfort as I went through my Mother’s jewelry. After I finished going through her jewelry, I went through her bags. The problem was, the bags were located in another part of the house and I was scared. I asked my Dad if he would come up the stairs with me (to where the shoes were located) and he said No. I knew he was going to say that but I still wanted to ask just in case he gave me a different answer. As I ascended the stairs I saw a large picture of my Mother. The picture of her had always been there but on some level I thought my Dad would have put the picture away, but he didn’t. When I saw the picture I felt like she was watching me as I was watching her. It was a brief moment but it was powerful. I knew she was telling me “You can do this T” so I put my fear aside and I stepped into her closet.

My Mother’s closet was one of the best places in the house. It was huge and it only belonged to her. I stepped inside in search of a bag, but found myself trying on her shoes. To my surprise most of them were a perfect fit. It felt surreal. Although I knew my Mother and I wore the same shoe size I never thought I would literally be walking in them. Why? Because my Mother was protective of her things. She often allowed me to borrow a handbag, a scarf, a slip, or a pair of shoes, but I had to return them. Now that she’s passed on, I longer have to return these things but I am in charge of how well they are kept. Why? Because they’re still hers. She’s just allowed me to keep them at my house, in hopes that as I wear them, I would think of her and become the woman she raised me to be.