Letting Go

   To the rest of the world these look like a crappy old pair of flip flops.  Truth be told they are to the naked eye.  But to my soul they are so much more.  I only wear them camping, boating or in the yard, I would never wear them in public.  So why when they fell apart a few weekends ago did I not toss them, why did I carefully set them in the porch climb into bed and cry myself to sleep over an old pair of flip flops?  These are my Lyndell flip slops.  We bought these 13 years ago.  The chemo and radiation made her hands and feet hurt and they were the only flip flops that didn't hurt her feet.  She bought them in every color they had.  I got myself a pair.  These flip flops are memories of her last summer.  Memories of her in her garden, her flower bed, sitting on her front steps watching Shay and Ethan jumping on the trampoline.  When conversations got deep (which that summer they all did, Shawnta had just passed and we knew our time with Lyndell had already surpassed the time doctors had given her), when topics got deep and tears were on the verge I would look down, I would look at her feet, her tan feet with perfectly painted toes and her flip flops.  I would stare at her feet as I tried to blink away the tears as we talked about how life wasn't fair, how she wished to make it to Eric's high school graduation.  We would laugh and joke and I would look down at her feet when she would laugh too hard and start choking and coughing.  Another reminder that each time I prayed for God to let her stay longer it was such a selfish desire on my part.  The summer after she passed Shawn gave me this pair of her flip flops.  My pair long gone in the trash but this pair that once was on her feet, this pair I stared at so many times that summer are still in my closet.

  For those who know, grief is a huge part of my life and I have for the most part (I feel) dealt with it pretty well.  But there are a few things, every so often a moment I catch myself not ready to let go of silly things like crappy 13 year old flip flops.  Sometimes I look down and remember her feet in them and that last summer.  The reminder that life isn't fair and life is short and that her only wish was for her kids to know her.  Sometimes I look down as I sit in the porch swing while my girls jump on the trampoline and I think don't take for granted the little moments, the little things.  

  That night I cried myself to sleep aching for just how much 13 years later I still miss her, I still miss Shawnta, I still miss all of them!  Their laughs, our conversations, our innocence before not knowing how hard and unfair life can be. All because of a silly pair of old flip flops.  

  When I woke up the next morning to throw them away I realized Zach had went to great lengths to repair these flip flops.  While I was in bed feeling sorry for myself and letting 17 years of grief consume me for a few hours, he was in the garage gluing, forming and binding the poor shredded flip flops back together.

  Because he knew I wasn't ready, I wasn't ready to let go of them just yet.  I'm so grateful for a husband that realizes that sometimes it doesn't matter how much time has passed, sometimes your heart still hurts. What might seem silly to the rest of the world and make some people roll their eyes, Zach realized meant something more to me.  So to anyone else 1 month, 1 year, or like me 13 years later still having moments of not being ready to let go of things...you are not alone, it's ok. Because for me most days looking down at those old flip flops, seeing them in the porch makes me smile and remember to never take a single person or day for granted.