It was a holy night at church and I was thinking about shoes. The Easter Vigil, which takes place the night before Easter, is a solemn moment in liturgical churches like mine. Tomorrow, on Easter morning, Jesus’s disciples will learn that he has passed from death to life — during this very night.
Here, now, a couple of millennia later, I’m not thinking Easter thoughts. I’m thinking about the adorable red Mary Jane flats on the feet of the woman sitting next to me. She’s got them tucked under the kneeler, but I can see them plain as day. I want a pair.
I think about those shoes. And after that I think about fresh sweats for Spin class. And something pretty to wear to Grandchild No. One’s Irish dance recital coming up in May
A shopping trip is definitely in order, I tell myself. It’s been ages since my last all-day, shop-till-you-drop marathon. The pandemic shutdown kept me out of the stores in 2020. Then in 2021, Jon died, and after that what would be the point?
A Reading From Proverbs. More Shoes
At the podium now in the front of the church a parishioner is reading from Proverbs. I check out her shoes. Stylish and black with a low, clunky heel. Nice.
I have a similar pair at home in my closet. The last I saw them they were in a drawer, getting dusty. I used to put those shoes on whenever Jon and I headed out for something special, like a dinner at Tadich’s in San Francisco with his high school classmates, many of whom have since died or are now getting close to it.
My throat tightens at the thought of those old shoes. I am about to cry and I will cry if I don’t stop thinking about those shoes, about Jon, about the life I used to have with him.
I do a lot of crying these days, but I do it at home, doors closed. Nobody hears, and nobody has to wonder what to do about it. Because there’s nothing to do about it.
Red Mary Janes at the Easter Vigil
I’m okay with thinking about red Mary Janes in church. That’s a human frailty I can live with. But I’m not okay with letting loose with noisy sobs. That would make my grief public.
It would also acknowledge that something profound might be going on here.
Coming to church was risky, given what’s being asserted tonight. Death rendered meaningless? If I let that thought in, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.
So I turn my eyes back to the red Mary Janes. They really are super cute.
Some words from another parishioner at my church: “Geoff Machin — We Go Looking for God, When We Could Be Having a Beer.” And some words from a Catholic priest, “Why Are All Those Catholics So Darned Catholic?”
I was happy to be sitting next to you at church that night, and delighted that you got something for your column. Your titles for your articles are about all I can take before I start crying, too, and I’m not a widow yet. Meaning, your writing is very close to the heart and your grief is palpable. What a gift to me.
Thanks for the kind words. They mean a lot. And thanks for being such a good sport about the shoes!
Really identified with your line, “If I let that thought in, I’ll cry and I won’t be able to stop.”
The question that keeps coming up is — where’s Jon? Where’s Sparrow?
with you.
I’ve been thinking of you today. If Jon the astronomy buff were here, I have the funny feeling I’d be *with you* in Texas right now watching the sky light up again.
i thought the same thing, with a pang.
If Jon has any regrets about not being here with us today, I think missing yesterday’s eclipse would be at the top of his list.