It was her pair of black sandals that initially made me pause. I could remember her wearing them at family gatherings and now they lay on the floor, resting indefinitely.
But it was more than the shoes.
My husband’s grandparents’ home was filled with things Grandmother had left behind when she recently passed away—papers, clothes, quilting projects, and even a pie crust patiently awaiting its filling in the freezer.
But it was more than these items, too.
It was the things she’d been leaving behind for years, though you’d never see them stacked in a corner or overflowing from a box. In fact, you couldn’t see them at all.
They’re the same things each of us leaves behind after every encounter with another: