I was petrified as I picked up the household scissors and a small clipper to cut his hair. I could felt his straight blonde and dark brown hairs slip through my cocoa fingers after the first snip. Within in minutes the clipping coated the shoulders of his shirt and the floor underneath the chair.
“It’s not too short and there are no bald spots,” I thought after I worked my way around to the front of his hair.
I spent nearly an hour and a half painstakingly working on his hair until my hands began to hurt.
It was a welcome distraction. Just hours earlier, my father called to tell me my mom had been admitted back into the hospital. All I could think about is that she’s thin, weak, vulnerable, and all alone. She’s in a place swimming with germs without any of her relatives allowed to visit her.
When his haircut was done, I retreated to my room. I laid there and I wondered if my mom is scared. I wondered if she’s safe, if she’s comfortable, if she’s getting the care she needs while being protected from Covid-19 and other viruses in the hospital.
I know there was no other option, I thought. I just wish the world wasn’t the way it is right now so I could her hand like she’s held mine so many times when I hospitalized.
As I drifted off to sleep, I prayed and remarkably I slept well. But, an hour after I woke up there was a call. My aunt who was more like a second grandmother to me passed away. She was my mom’s last living sister or sibling. Her birthday was the day before mine and we’d exchange calls and often celebrated them together. I’d call her when she was home and send her cash for treats. I’d take my mom to visit her when she moved to the nursing home. Often, she’d beg us to take her home. We couldn’t and the guilt always ate at me. The worst I’ve felt is the the last month an a half when we couldn’t visit either due to Covid-19 restrictions.
Did she know why we weren’t there? I wondered. Did she still know we loved her? Was she alone? The pain is too raw to keep thinking about it but I pray she’s at peace. Rest In Peace, Aunt Rubelle Johnson, lovingly known as Lala or Lola.
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#coronavirus #nursinghome #cancersucks #mothersanddaughters #invisibleillness #chronicillness #chronicpain #family #autoimmunedisease #spoonie