that time when I had short hair


It’s weird the way the mind works.

Grandpa EdI was walking to work this morning and I thought about the last time I saw my Grandpa Ed. I remembered our conversation, how he told me he loved my short hair. He was laying in his bed, frail and wasting away, and I burst into tears. I realized at that moment that this would be the last time I saw him and I couldn’t hold them back. My heart just completely broke apart in that moment. I thought about the look of resignation and sadness on his face when he saw me cry. It was an awkward moment that was also filled with understanding and love. He said a few words, something like, “It’s okay, don’t cry Moni.” And I realized I needed to pull myself together because a person on their death bed should not be consoling a person who is visiting them, saying goodbye. But that is exactly what happened.

As I was walking along, thinking these thoughts this morning, I wondered why this moment popped into my head today. And then I realized it was because of the photo above, shared on Facebook by my mom yesterday in honor of National Sibling Day. The portrait of me and my siblings was taken the week I came home to say goodbye to my grandfather.

I loved seeing it yesterday, it was made for her as a gift for Mothers Day in 1995. But it’s weird how your brain unconsciously plays connect the dots and that somehow it reminded me of this moment with my grandfather.

4 thoughts on “that time when I had short hair

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