It has taken me long enough to write about a loss in our family.
Before any inaccurate ideas start forming, I should follow up with another photo.
You think I'm trying to be amusing here? This was a big loss. Soon after I ran my fingers through his bob of hair one last time and had snipped away a piece of my baby boy's childhood, my mental state had to undergo the five steps of grieving.
Denial-------> "Is this swatch of hair really his? Am I really doing this? Nooooooooooo."
Anger-------> (With burning tears welling in my eyes) "I can't believe I got talked into getting his hair cut." (Looking at my husband and silently thinking to myself.) "I hate you."
Bargaining-------> "If only we didn't need to worry about ticks. If only his hair wasn't so thick. If only we didn't have to worry about July's humidity."
Depression-------> Tears. Lots of snot and tears.
Acceptance-------> "It'll be okay. He'll be miserable this summer if it doesn't get done."
I dreaded for an entire hour, waiting, as Boy took our little boy to SuperCuts. All of that waiting turned me into Lennie Small--stroking that tender ponytail of soft brown hair against my cheek as if it were one of Lennie's beloved rabbits at the farm. A little psycho, you say? Grief does that to you. The sound of the garage door rolling up and seeing the car return past the front window signaled my stomach to twist up into a knot.
Again, the five stages:
Denial-------> "This is not my little boy. This can't be happening to me."
Anger-------> (Looking at Boy) "How dare you." (Thinking about the person who cut off the hair) "It's ugly and it's too short. I hate it. I hate it! His beautiful head of hair is gone!" (Looking at my husband again) "You did this. A piece of my little boy just died. Don't talk to me."
Bargaining-------> "If only we could have kept his hair a little longer..."
Depression-------> I sobbed good and long on the couch. "He's not the same!" I wailed. "I can't look at him!" A hard cry with a box of tissues is always cathartic. It must have been another entire hour until I came to my senses and found resolution.
Acceptance-------> "It'll grow back at the end of the summer."