As I've spent what would have been my mother's 56th birthday, I've looked through a lot of old photographs of my mom. Photos of her childhood, her marriage to my dad, and with all her children. I've looked through many that really surprise me. My mom was a cancer patient for many years of my life, so many of the pictures she doesn't have any hair. I wouldn't say my mother was a vain person but I do know that she never went a day without showering, never went out without make up on, and always felt that her hair was one of her best qualities. You understand, then, what I mean when I say I was shocked to see so many pictures of her during chemo because she was the type of person who never wanted to look anything but her best, and certainly wouldn't want to be captured in a state without hair.
I'm glad we do have those pictures though.
Because even though she didn't look her best, it still documents the mother that I had during most of my teenage years. I love the photos of her as a young woman with long, flowing hair down to her "rear", but I also love seeing the mother that I sat in a hospital bed with, whose too frail hand I held, whose head was beautifully bald. I wish we had more pictures. I wish we had every moment of our time cut short together documented in photographs. I'm forever grateful to her for allowing us to have these memories captured in photographs.
If you're wondering about the one with my mom getting frisky with Santa, don't worry, it was my dad.
And if you're curious what the white shirts my mom and dad are wearing, they say, "Who needs hair with a body like this?"
Ain't that the truth.
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