It's one am. I'm up. The house is quiet. I've been staring blankly at the computer for over 20 mins. Aimlessly browsing through pinterest looking for anything that would distract my mind. A pretty cottage or a painted dresser. A new zucchini recipe or a garden design. A chicken coup or a pretty hen. Things that usually distract my mind for hours are dull and blank tonight.
I cut her hair. I brushed it clean and straight. I pulled her beautiful long strands of golden gray hair into two pony tails and carefully braided them both. I have done this many times in my life. Brushing and braiding and then unbraiding and starting again. I loved the way her hair had little curls and waves. As a child I liked running my fingers through it. Tonight I braided it and then after a deep breath...I cut it all off!
She sat straight backed, tears streaming down her face. After the first cut she took a huge breath in and then sat stoically still as her head was shaved.
I understand the need to be in control of this loss. I understand wanting to make it on her own terms. I understand...but I don't like it!
I was 9 years old last time I saw her bald. Last time I saw that look on her face. I had forgotten that look. Locked it away, back in my mind. Saving it for a time when I needed to know true strength. I have never pulled the memory out until tonight. With my heart breaking and my mind blank I put a smile on my face and cleared my sore and tired eyes as I told her she was strong. She could do this. She could do anything. I told her it was her story and she was the pen holder. I tried to show that strength.
Then I took my baby home, fed her, chatted with the hubs, ate some dinner, put my sweet little to bed and watched tv.
Took a shower, prayed, tried to close my eyes...and cried.
I will say this every day until I can't say it anymore...I am strong, I am faithful and I am her daughter. I must do this. I must show her I learned from her teachings. I will ask God to carry me so I can try to carry her.
I cut her hair. I brushed it clean and straight. I pulled her beautiful long strands of golden gray hair into two pony tails and carefully braided them both. I have done this many times in my life. Brushing and braiding and then unbraiding and starting again. I loved the way her hair had little curls and waves. As a child I liked running my fingers through it. Tonight I braided it and then after a deep breath...I cut it all off!
She sat straight backed, tears streaming down her face. After the first cut she took a huge breath in and then sat stoically still as her head was shaved.
I understand the need to be in control of this loss. I understand wanting to make it on her own terms. I understand...but I don't like it!
I was 9 years old last time I saw her bald. Last time I saw that look on her face. I had forgotten that look. Locked it away, back in my mind. Saving it for a time when I needed to know true strength. I have never pulled the memory out until tonight. With my heart breaking and my mind blank I put a smile on my face and cleared my sore and tired eyes as I told her she was strong. She could do this. She could do anything. I told her it was her story and she was the pen holder. I tried to show that strength.
Then I took my baby home, fed her, chatted with the hubs, ate some dinner, put my sweet little to bed and watched tv.
Took a shower, prayed, tried to close my eyes...and cried.
I will say this every day until I can't say it anymore...I am strong, I am faithful and I am her daughter. I must do this. I must show her I learned from her teachings. I will ask God to carry me so I can try to carry her.
Oh Ara, I am so sorry....I will be praying for all of you!
ReplyDelete~Julie