Okay, so a lot of people cry over their hair. I can't tell you how many times over the past ten years I have walked out of a hair salon, sat in my car, pulled down the visor mirror and cried. Isn't that just part of what women do? Doesn't that come with the territory of artificially changing what was yours in the first place?
Today I was driving to work, pulled down my visor mirror and attempted to hold back the tears. No, I haven't been to the hairdresser lately (who I love and I NEVER cry when she does my hair) and I wasn't having a bad hair day either.
I felt like crying because I didn't have my normal halo of short hair sticking out from under the rest of my long hair. See, just a week or so before Gavin died I started losing my hair. The bathroom at the Ronald McDonald House was covered with my hair all of the time and my sweet mom would get down and wipe it all up while I sat there dumbfounded at my loss. She would reassure me that most women lose hair after they give birth and while they are nursing. I believe this was part of it, but perhaps my body knew something was waiting in the wings. The inevitable.
The morning of Gavin's funeral I sat in the shower and pulled out clump after clump of hair. Not on purpose, mind you. I was already feeling enough pain to numb the heck out of you - trust me, I didn't need any more. My hair just came out every time I touched my head. This pattern continued for about three months after.
In the end, I lost about half of my hair. Since then, I have had a halo of new hair growth crowning my head. It would stick up everywhere - it didn't matter what I did, it was EVERYWHERE. Today when I looked in my visor mirror, I realized that they are gone - blending in again with what hair was spared. You think I would be happy, right? Actually, it made me realize that time is passing. The chaos and havoc that danced on my life has started to cease. Time is going forward and my hair is growing.
Maybe I should take a lesson from my hair. While I never will be exactly the same and the effects of the past year will always hold a sad and precious place in my heart, perhaps I should begin to blend in with the rest of life too. My hair won't ever be quiet the same - I will never be quite the same, but we will continue to thrive. Maybe in the end, something as simple as hair can give me hope that life can still be "okay" even if there are parts we miss.
3 comments:
You are too cute! I never have ever noticed any little baby hairs sticking up and I do look at your hair, because I always think it looks so soft and smooth. :) I'm sure your halo will come back again someday. :)
I'm not sure why this post hit me so hard, but it just brought me to tears. I remember moments of realization like that...I still have them. And yet I so appreciate how you can apply them SO perfectly. I say it a thousand times, but I really mean it. You are simply amazing.
There are days when I feel like Gavin was just here. Then there are days when it feels like it has been a million years. I am sure this is something you always tether between. Time has a tendecy to tick on whether we like it or not. I know that not only has your hair grown, but so has your spirit. You always have a halo above you and a glow about you. Thank you for being the perfect example of grace.
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