By Sr. Gail Worcelo, C.P.
It was his pair of black shoes sitting in the corner of his room that caught my attention. I had just arrived for a visit at Well-Spring and Thomas was sitting in his chair, blanket wrapped around his shoulders, with a big welcoming smile to greet me. I walked over to him and we gave each other a long, tight hug.
“Pull up a chair,” Thomas said, “and face me.”
“There you have it,” I thought. “What else would he say to me after all of these years of bonded intimacy, of teaching and loving, laughing and learning.”
These are the words of a Wisdom Master to his student in the waning years of his life. I could barely heed the request because of the extraordinary demand inherent in it.
To distract myself from the monumental task of honoring his request, I allowed my eyes to glance quickly back to his black shoes, stretched and scuffed in the corner. They were like two eyes, witnessing this moment, peering out from their vantage point in the room.
I knew these shoes well and the man who had filled them during so many walks and talks, dinners and visits.