July is a hard month for me, and for my family. I dread this day all summer long, and then donít know what to do with myself when it gets here, and then am somehow even sadder when itís over.
I had some stuff prepared for today Ė melancholy crap about how we mourn, and how I feel, and this sadness that makes me stare into space, and triggers Beaker to come over and hold me and touch my hair.
Thanks to a phone call from my sister Mollie, Iím saving it for tomorrow.
Mollie has gorgeous hair. She always has, and everyone knows it. Naturally curly, light brown, and really thick. Carrie and I got the waves, but our hair is finer, and nowhere near as luxurious and dramatic.
There are countless photographs of Mollie and me, as little girls. Two years apart, holding hands, hair down to our butts like little hippies. As children, the only time either of us ever had short hair was when I received a new doll and decided that my toy and I BOTH deserved haircuts, resulting in an unfortunate pageboy with heavy bangs that took a couple of years to grow out.
Mollieís has always, always been long. At least down to her shoulders, but more often waving down to somewhere in the middle of her back.
The only drawback to Mollieís hair is that she inherited our motherís early transition to grey Ė they both started at about 19 years old. (I hope I take after dad Ė he held out Ďtill 40 or so.) But it didnít matter, because Mollie liked to change the color and play with is and just let her hair grow and be curly and beautiful.
In fact, Mollie and her friend Leslie have been letting it grow, deliberately, for several months now. Leslie came with Mollie to visit Beaker and me over Memorial Day, and Leslieís hair was even longer than Mollieís Ė it was so long that Beaker even admired it, out loud, and he rarely even notices things like that.
Today, Mollie cut it all off, up to her ears, and donated the hair to Locks of Love.
Leslie did hers yesterday.
They are best friends, and thatís how, together, they decided they would commemorate my motherís life, two years after her death.
Mollie says itís about up to her ears. I canít even imagine what it looks like, but Iím certain itís fabulous Ė Mollieís too pretty for it not to be. She promised me photos, to post here in the future.
Two little kids out there, who are sick and scared and embarrassed, are going to be blessed with a full head of hair, thanks to these two magnificent women Ė my sister and her best friend.
Mollie and Leslie, I am so, so proud of you.
Mom is really proud of you, too. I think sheís the one who is making me cry every time I think about your generous spirits, and how lucky I am to be related to and to know people like the two of you.
I love you both very much.
She would have been 52 years old tomorrow.