In his shoes

You know what grief looks like?

Some days, like today, it looks like walking out in my late husband’s worn out slippers, his shacket on my waist, and extremely dry feet with skin peeling on the soles — on the trail behind my house.

Because that’s the only thing that felt comforting to do at that time.

For me, grief has never meant crying. Or memorials. Or grand celebrations. Or constantly telling people.

I love to imbibe my grief into my living. It is my way of continuing to love him intimately by having him participate in my routine.

Something as simple as saying a small prayer each morning, opening the blinds to my backyard, and kissing Sameer’s photo. 

I had an unpleasant interaction with an undergrad friend yesterday. We bumped into each other at the dentist. I don’t think they came to the funeral. Never reached out to me since Sameer passed. He wanted updates on my work and he also mentioned that he saw that I had sold my home. It was important for him to know the logistics of my life. 

But he couldn’t see the private reality underneath those logistics even for a moment.

And yet, here I am, walking around, trying to move forward and build a life after my loss...and sometimes, like today, literally doing it in his shoes!!