My daughter was buried barefoot. A half dozen pairs of shoes are lined up outside her room, waiting for every kind of use - cleats for sports, sneakers to wear to school, flats for formal events, high heels for something I don't really know about nor ever want to. I buried her in her favorite sweater and her field hockey uniform. The funeral home called me about shoes, but why what use were shoes against the tufted silk in her casket? Let her toes go free.
My daughter had some things that were obvious secrets, some not. I had a good idea that she charged the money she was charging to the pizza place and other places that was linked to my card was actually seen, by me. She always thought she and I had more money than we did. Stupid girl. Loved entertaining friends, but never had the opportunity to really do it on her own. That showed up on my statements, along with a strung up daughter.
My daughter had some things that were not obvious secrets. I swore that I would tuck the diary she had under her casket's pillow but I ultimately could not. I learned my daughter had an overwhelming passion for a boy who I'd recognized at her funeral but had never been able to place, but had been able to name. The boy probably didn't know. And now it's all gone.