in her shoes

The following piece was written almost 3 years ago when my grandmother passed away… With every step, with every stride, with every mile that passes by I more than wish, I pray, that I will one day be able to fill her shoes…

She had over 50 pairs of shoes. But in a white box, inside, covered in cloth, were her favorite shoes of all. They were a bit out dated, but any girl could appreciate their beauty. These were no ordinary shoes. They were the shoes she wore when she got married. Beautiful heels, with a hint of silver, diamonds, and straps made of silk. Gorgeous, exquisite and out of the ordinary. Cinderella would be envious.

I was four when she let me try on those heels. Of course my tiny feet seemed rather to swim in the shoes, but I was so proud to be wearing them it did not matter. My grandmother laughed at the clankity clank that echoed in the room as I tried to walk in those shoes. I remember looking up at her, my face was filled with joy, I felt like a grown up being able to reach the counter. I started to cry though when I realized I still couldn’t reach the cookie jar. I thought my new found height would be able to help me reach what I desperately wanted but my grandmother still had to pull up a chair and let me climb on top of it to reach it.

At that point my grandmother picks me up, gives me an extra cookie, and starts telling me the story of her wedding day, and how she came about to receive those shoes. And oh how she spoke of those shoes as the one material item she valued most. I peered down at the shoes captivated by their beauty.

Years later I find myself opening the white box. Uncovering the cloth to find her shoes. And as I look at them a tear falls from my eyes. I take them out placing them on my feet. It’s almost a perfect fit. I circle the room walking in her shoes. I sit on the bed peering down at the shoes and once again I’m captivated by their beauty. And a calmness that I’ve never felt over takes me. In her shoes I remember all the great times, all the laughter and all of the tears. And all the love I have for that wonderful woman who made me who I am today.

But I slip them off, return them to the box and take it with me. I’m going to meet my grandmother so she can wear them. So as she lays there in that bed. I carefully place her shoes on her feet. They put on her make up, do her hair beautifully, and I smile just for her. She looks so beautiful I can’t keep my eyes off of her. But tonight will be the last time I see her. They are preparing her for her funeral. I give her one last kiss and slowly walk away. As I do, I look back, one last time, at that magnificent woman who taught me most of what I know. I look down at my own feet realizing my feet might never fill her shoes.

I can still hear her say:
¿Verdad que están lindos? Algún día, algún día tu también tendrás tu propio par y lo veras, tu lo veras. (Aren’t they beautiful? One day… one day you too will have your own pair and you will see, you will see).

Now I don’t wonder if I’ll ever get married and have my own pair of stunningly designed shoes. What I really wonder is if I’ll ever get to see life the way she did. For her nothing seemed out of reach, nothing too far, nothing too high… I’m beginning to realize she was right… everything that you’ve always wanted or maybe even dreamed of, could be so close for you to taste but you cant touch it unless you get really high heels, or pull up a chair and climb…