Big shoes to fill. That’s a phrase we hear when a great retires or is gone forever. In such moments people quote Shakespeare, i.e. the line from Julius Caesar where at the end of his funeral oration Mark Antony thunders, ‘Here was a Caesar, when comes such another!’
It is the claim of irreplaceability, usually made in emotional moments by people who in sober times would pause and affirm the dictum ‘no one is dispensable.’ Antony, a demagogue if ever there was one, mutters to himself thereafter, ‘Now let it work. Mischief, thou art afoot.Take thou what course thou wilt!’
Great personalities precipitate such claims that are often touched by despair. Charismatic leaders, exceptional sporting personalities, writers, artists and exemplary citizens, when gone, prompt uttering of irreplaceability. Life goes on. Others step in and so either mockingly or fair warning or quiet reminder of challengers ahead, we hear, ‘big shoes to fill.’
In certain instances it takes time. Not always. I often think of Marcus Labuschagne. He was called on to fill considerably big boots as the concussion sub (the first time the protocol was used) when Steve Smith was felled by a deadly bouncer from England’s Jofra Archer. He scored 59 and helped Australia secure a draw. He would play the rest of the Ashes helping Australia to retain the urn amassing 353 runs. He ended the year as the highest run-getter in tests with 1104 runs at an average of 64.94, surpassing ‘Big Shoes Steve Smith’ whose aggregate for the year was 965.
Rare. Atypical.
What got me thinking of shoes, shoe-sizes and the challenge of fitting into big ones was actually a set of small shoes. They belong to a lovely girl, Skylee, not yet three years of age. Like most children her age, Skylee is a workaholic. Work is play of course and she just can’t stop. An only child, she’s learnt to entertain herself for the most part. She’s quite the self-employed and self-contained child. There are times however when she insists that others in the household, her parents and their pet golden retriever Leena give her a hand to complete arduous but entertaining tasks she’s set herself. I am called upon to partake of the food she makes, toss back a balloon she sometimes tosses at me, chase her or be chased by her around tables and chairs or simply pay attention.
These are get-into-shoes moments. Never easy. Small though her feet are, the shoes are ‘big’ in the sense that they constitute a formidable challenge. It requires me to delve into all encounters with children her age and gather what knowledge of filling shoes has been retained in my memory. Most times, it’s a lottery. Sometimes I am lucky, most times I feel like a fool. And I think of Sybil Wettasinghe all over again, marvelling at her ingenuity but more than that the ease with which she can slip into the tiny shoes of a child. Such a perfect fit!
Sybil Naenda, to put it another way, never outgrew her child-shoes. The dedication she penned in the book ‘The child in me’ says it all: ‘The love and peace cultivated in my heart as a child, has remained throughout my whole life. With this love I warm-heartedly present, “The Child in Me,” to everyone, young and old.’
She’s gone now but I like to think that I could have convinced her that she was, is and will forever be a child. Skylee’s shoes are Sybil Naenda’s size.
One day someone will step into her shoes. That someone will be a child disguised as an adult and regardless of shoe-size still able to fit into Skylee-size shoes. Just like Sybil Naenda did. Wearing those shoes was the password to a child’s world and therein to stories that will never be forgotten.
Skylee’s shoes had been washed. They were drying in the sun. Sybil Naenda slipped into each pair and danced around the garden. One pair had extra magic. The moment she wore them Sybil Naenda sprouted wings. She turned, smiled and waved as she flew away like a butterfly, flitting from one child-flower to another, pollinating the world with innocence and love.
How much I miss her!
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