On October 21, 2007, I was at work when I received an emergency phone call saying my son had been hit by a car and I needed to get to the hospital as soon as I could. Even tho I didn't get much information via that phone call, I instinctively knew that it wasn't good. I was too shaken to drive so a co-worker drove me to the hospital. When I arrived, before I was allowed to see him, I was whisked into the little room that I call the bad news room. While I sat there and listened to the doctor run down the list of injuries my son had suffered, my left hand went to the nape of my neck and I started twisting my hair. I didn't even realize what I was doing until he delivered the final blow, that my son was going to die. That's when I looked down at my hands and saw several strands of my hair wrapped around my fingers.
I'm not blogging about this to go through the details of that tragic time again. And also, I am not talking about all of the significant things that happened. Since this is a blog about hair, I'm telling things related to such.
What happened after my son died, from the moment he passed, for the next few days, it was all sort of a blur. Some things I remember in detail, some things I don't remember at all. But I do remember my mom telling me I needed to wrap my hair because every time she looked up I had my hand twisted in it. She sounded frustrated as if she had told me several times to get my hand out of my hair. There was one day when she said to me, 'let's go somewhere'. I remember not wanting to leave my house because there was a steady flow of relatives and friends coming by. But she told me not to worry about that, my home would be looked after. She marched me into the salon and sat me down in the stylist's chair and told her to do something with my hair. The stylist gave me a good shampoo and deep conditioner. She put it up in some big platts and told me that she was sorry for what I was going thru. She said she knows that hair was probably the last thing on my mind but that I shouldn't forget about it. She said that if I went too long without combing it out that it would get matted, which it had already started doing by the time I got to her chair.
My god-sister and good friend, arrived in town and she did my hair for me while she was in town for the funeral.
21 days after my son was killed, his daughter was born 17 weeks early. She was in the nicu at a hospital 2 hours away. She only weighed 1lb 5oz and the doctors said she probably wouldn't make it. But she did. She's a miracle. She was in that hospital from her birth in nov to the end of february.
I think it was around April 2008 when I first noticed a small slick spot at the nape of my hairline. It was barely big enough to fit my fingertip into but I knew it didn't belong there. Life had gotten back into to somewhat of a routine for me. I was again paying attention to thing's I had neglected for several months. And I knew that slick spot was a result of all of the crazy life event's that had happened. After becoming aware of it, I noticed how, everytime I thought about my son, his killer, or anything that stressed me, I would nervously fiddle and twist at that part of my hair. I made a conscious effort not to do that anymore. And altho I had done pretty good at leaving my hair be in that area, it continued to come out.
Fast forward to now, I have a large bald spot back there. People give me compliments on how healthy, thick and pretty my hair is. But they don't know I have that secret baldness underneath all of this thick and curly hair. I simply stopped wearing my hair up so people wouldn't notice.
Just like I spent so much time trying to go through life as if I hadn't lost part of my soul when my son died. Just like I would go to work and pretend to be happy and stable and come home and lose my mind in tears and sorrow.
I was comfortable with who I was before he died. My world was right and life was good. But then, he died and everything turned wrong. And then his daughter was born and watching her struggle and fight just to survive was awe inspiring and scary at the same time. I was confused. Like, how could I handle experiencing the worst tragedy a mother can experience, and the most miraculous thing in his daughter's survival all within such a short period of time?
I am getting closer to right again. Learning what my life is now, without him. I don't think I will ever be comfortable like I was before, but I am living and growing and starting to have a zest for life again. I am once again feeling the need to take good care of myself. Drop the weight I've gained since he died. Recover. Renew. Revive.
So, I'm no longer trying to hide the hair I lost. Just like I can't hide the void that was left when my son died. If that hair never grows back, I'm fine with that. The rest of my hair is going to do what it's intended to do, naturally. It will loc up, coil around and grow into energy filled rods of hope and light. I honestly believe that hair is like leaves on a tree. If the tree is healthy and nourished, the leaves will be plentiful and green and flourish. But if that tree is sick and diseased, the leaves will fall off and die. Starting with my thoughts, following through with my actions, I am confident that my hair, and my life, is on the right track to becoming strong, healthy and beautiful again. As I continue on this path to become a healthier person, my hair will reflect that.
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