Sunday, June 11, 2017

Damn Shoes

In the end, it was his shoes that brought me down.

We went to clean out his room today. I knew it was going to be hard, and I didn't have to be there, but I wanted to be.

And I was doing okay. Sad, of course, but holding it together. My sister was already playing the role of the pitiful weepy daughter. I wanted to be the strong one.

It was going well. No one was fighting over who got what. We were all there together and making quick work of splitting things up and moving furniture, etc.

And then I saw them. His tennis shoes. Just sitting there on the floor by his chair where he always kept them, like he was just waiting to put them on and go for a walk.

Those damn shoes. They just fucking triggered me and I crumpled like a cheap piece of paper. I mean, I was just standing there and BOOM... I was wailing. I mean, forget ugly crying, I was full on snot-flowing, gasping for air, hiccuping, sobbing. Forget trying to hold it together... I was just trying to stay on my feet. It just hit me like a ton of fucking bricks.

One of my brothers threw his arms around me and let me just let it go. Held me up and just let me... well, hell, I soaked his shirt in tears and snot and probably slobber, too.

I took ugly crying to a new level of gross, and I'm not the slightest bit ashamed.

Because you know what? It felt fucking amazing. Just letting it out, not caring who saw, who heard... I shattered.

And it felt so good.

Didn't last very long, I don't think. I don't really know. It didn't feel like a long time. Someone shoved a wad of tissue in my hand and I cried until I stopped.

I know it's not the end of the tears. It wasn't even the end of the tears for that hour. But usually I'm more of a tears just running down the cheeks kinda girl.

But for a few minutes today, I was... wrecked.

I am so glad I got that out of my system.

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