when lug soles feel like a betrayal
i got penny loafers recently, and the decision was marred with mental anguish. see, most people see something they like or need and they buy it. but most people aren’t tahmid.
tahmid had principled views on fashion which transcended all manner of reason and logic (to everyone else, anyway). his opinions weren’t just preferences. to stray from his opinions would be an affront to his integrity. he was drawn only to classics, the OG, the ‘source material’ as we called it, so the idea of a twist on an original was downright offensive.
which i mostly understood, this was (largely) the same weirdo autistic trait we clearly shared. tahmid was the only person who respected the way i can only buy or wear sneakers that were originally designed before i was born, which is a rule that’s so silly i’m afraid to admit it to anyone else.
but back to these loafers. i purchased weejuns in a 90s lug sole version.
… and it feels like the biggest betrayal to the memory of my brother that i’ve committed to date. yet i would’ve had zero remorse buying betrayal footwear if he were still here.
that’s the thing about grief, i’m finding. see, i have almost 32 years of tahmid archives in my brain, which means if anyone mind is all set to decode WWTND (what would tahmid nurullah do) via machine learning - it’s me (the machine version). but without him here to give me permission, or validation, or justification, i feel lost as fuck.
if tahmid were here, and i said i wanted the 90s lug sole version of g.h. bass weejuns, mostly because i didn’t want to wait for imported full-price ones and just wanted domestically shipped shoes on sale - he’d be fine with it. the irony. he’d give me shit, i’d still get them, and we’d move on. then he would’ve seen me style them and give me a tip or some inspiration and a link to what i should place on the wishlist next.
but he’s gone and it feels like i have to make every decision behind his back now. it’s a strange feeling that i didn’t anticipate. i feel it all the time now, with a variety of things big and small.
i know it’s a testament to our sibling relationship in all its beautifully intimate, intertwined, inseparable glory. but right now, and i think for the rest of forever, this sucks. i never made a decision or a purchase without his perspective weighing in on it. he knew every half-baked thought on my mind; every minuscule notion or conception that popped into my head.
existence feels foreign now. it’s like both my legs were amputated and replaced with prosthetics. i have to learn how to walk again but to the rest of the world i’m standing upright and look exactly the same as i used to and no one can tell that absolutely nothing is the same. everything is hard and hopeless and grey.
most days i just don’t want to but i know i have to because he never let anything be an excuse so i sure as hell don’t get the option to either. even when i’m tired all the fucking time and my new loafers hurt because they turned out to be a half-size too small (maybe that was his way of showing disapproval after all).
