Today is Sunday, my favorite day of the week. It does not matter if it is sunny, snowy or rainy. There is something about Sunday that is relaxing and puts my mind at ease.
It is cloudy, milder than usual for January. I would be in bed reading under the covers if it were not for the duty of looking after three kids and a playdate friend. So, I sit here writing this, pretending I am watching them, because I am finally starting what has been a dream for years.

This dream of sharing a few thoughts about the many pairs of shoes I get to wear.

Recently, I had to put on a pair that I would rather hide in the back of my closet. Yesterday, I received a phone call letting me know that my eldest uncle had passed away. I was sad as I listened to my aunt breaking the news to me. Those grief shoes slipped on. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I realized it had been six-year since the last time I saw him. More tears rolled down as I listened to my aunt complaining how the people she has loved dearly keep leaving her. Immigrant shoes came out to remind me that I could not run to hug my aunt. She is about a day travel away.

I tried to comfort my aunt reminding her that my uncle had faith. He believed that “a day in God’s presence is worth more than a thousands elsewhere.” She kind of took that glimpse of hope but it was still painful. I said “I love you” many times, and told her to do what she thought fit. She does not want to go to the funeral because the grief shoes are still hard on her. She has been grieving for the past eighteen years. She lost her son, mother and two other siblings. I can relate. Who would want to wear that pair again?

Grief is something we are never ready for. It is not easy. It is not short. It is like a new pair of shoes that give you blisters until your feet get used to them, but you still frown as you slip them on, or even remember you own them.

Grief also reminds me that I love. It is because I love my uncle and have memories of him that it hurts. He was an artist. His paintings were auctioned in Venezuela many times. He painted a cool clown for me when I was six. His smile was wide and his laughter loud. He always called me Marielita, little Mariela. However, what I love most about my uncle Nelson is that he always told me stories about my mom. He shared with me the stories of their youth and how they used to play and tease each other constantly. My uncle Nelson took me on vacation to his house in the south-east of Venezuela right after mom passed away. He showed me that grief is a process and comforted my heart with long conversations about life and pan madamo- sweet bread made by the local ladies in El Callao (a gold mining town in Bolivar state).

Uncle Nelson told me many times that my mom was a great woman. He repeated many times that I should look for joy in life because that is what my mom would have wanted for me. Never mind how broken I may feel. He said, “you have what it takes! She taught you well Marielita.”

Last time I saw him, he smiled wide as usual. He hugged me and beamed with joy as he met my husband Steven, and kissed my two oldest kids- Sofia and Samuel. We talked about life, laughed out loud and snapped a few pictures.

This morning I sang and cried. Grief is not my favorite pair of shoes,but whenever I have to wear them I am reminded of another pair that I absolutely love! HOPE. They go hand in hand. See, for someone like me grief is temporary. I grieve the absence of my uncle,but I have hope and certainty that one day we will be together again. He will be smiling wide and laughing loud. This comforts my heart.

Grief shoes will be outdated some day and will never come back.

Now off to wipe these tears away and slipping on motherhood shoes. The kids are asking for a snack…again! It is almost supper time, and bedtime will sneak in right after.

Doing love defeats grief every time.

Do Love and shoes!

“He will wipe every tear from their eyes, and there will be no more death or sorrow or crying or pain. All these things are gone forever.” Revelations 21:4 NLT