On Shoes and Loss

I got these shoes yesterday. I do not like them.

They're fine, I suppose. They're reasonably comfortable. They didn't cost a lot. I had to get them because the dress shoes I had did not fit properly, because I panic-bought them at CVS (not a typo) the night before jury duty started. I thought I needed to dress nicely. I did not. I had to buy them because they were the only dress shoes the store had in my size (not that you asked, but 9 wide).

I do not like them for two reasons. One, they are... aesthetically displeasing. In other words, they are ugly. What's with the medallion on the toe? Am I the activities director on a cruise ship?? Yikes.

Two: I hate why I had to buy them.

Some friends lost their son last week. Griffin was 14. Not only was he Allyson's age, but he was also one of her closest friends. They met in preschool and we ended up joining their church. The services were yesterday. He was one of the neatest kids I've ever met, super intelligent and thoughtful, and loved animals of all kinds. He could solve a Rubik's cube in no time flat. He taught himself multiple musical instruments and languages and tried to get his friend group to learn German via Duolingo when everything was shut down for Covid. Allyson quit after three days. He wasn't mad, he was disappointed.

Which is like being mad.

We went to the funeral so we could be there for our friends. And at the post-service dinner, I realized a few things: 

- We love this family endlessly.

- When you love someone endlessly, you not only laugh with them in the fun times, you show up for them in the hard ones. 

- If you don't know what to say, it's okay. Sometimes all they need is a hug and to know they're loved.

- They don't care what your shoes look like. They care that you showed up for them.

- My dress had pockets. That's less important. But I was simultaneously thrilled and a little mad to discover this because I'd owned this dress for two years and discovered this yesterday.

- One should not buy shoes from a pharmacy and expect them to fit. Which, you know, should not have to be said. Usually. Pharmacy shoes are a terrible idea that is right up there with gas-station sushi.

Back in March 2020, Ben's dad died. Allyson stayed home from school the day after, and then texted her group chat - "My grandpa died yesterday and I don't know how to feel about it, which is why I wasn't at school today."

Her friends all sent condolences. And then, Griffin texted her this:

"I know how it is. It's okay to be sad."

He's right. It's okay to be sad. It's okay to be angry and confused about what happened. It's okay to ask God so many questions. He loves us. He can take it.

And He is good.

So, with Griffin's permission, I am sad. I'm sad that my friends lost their son. I'm sad that his siblings lost their brother. I'm sad that Allyson lost her friend. 

But I also have hope.

Which is better than ugly shoes any day.