We were his barefoot girls, he loved and adored us. He appreciated our quirks and our silliness and gave each of us a nickname. He teased us non-stop as a way of showing love, similar to the way the boy who liked you in kindergarten would pick on you because he had a crush on you.
It was his funeral and we stood together- his barefoot girls. It had been raining all day but we were certain the sun would come out as we stood by his grave for our final goodbye.
We were wrong! Why should the sky turn sunny when we had lost our sunshine. The sky poured down rain and we all prepared to watch the bagpiper in a downpour.
The grass was soaking wet & it was freezing cold. We were shivering as we waited for the dedication of the grave to begin. All of a sudden I took off my shoes and walked toward the grave, my husbands final resting place... barefoot. My niece and my daughter joined me- feet bare and freezing we paid tribute to our crazy man. It seemed so right! He had fought so hard and overcome so much pain through his illness. It was only right that we send him from this earth with us being uncomfortable and cold. We were his barefoot girls after all.
My feet were numb, which matched my brain and my heart. We had walked through the last 21 years side by side in illness & in health, until death did we part.
I wanted to hurt, I wanted there to be pain. How can you stand by your husbands grave numb & unfeeling? I needed to feel and I did. We had walked beaches, mountains and lakes together and now I walked toward a life without him. I did it with my feet as bare as my soul and my future as unclear as the wet ground beneath my feet.