A Funeral and My Hair

After years of bright sunny highlights, I dyed my hair red last Wednesday and don’t really like it. When I look it the mirror, I look darker, drearier, older and definitely less sexy.

I’ve allowed this to ‘color’ my life (I know, it’s ridiculous). Last night, I was out with a nice guy and my friend, Jen, who is younger, prettier and has better hair than I. And yes, I pouted jealously each time he directed a comment to her.

Jen is also sweet, funny, brainy and cheery – always a delight. Hmmm, why did he prefer her to the pouty, pissy, cranky, envious redhead?!!! Clearly, it was about the hair……….

Today, I’m going to the funeral of a young mother who died with everything to live for – a beautiful daughter, a wonderful partner and a fulfilling career that was just taking off.

I’ve already had 24 more years than she will ever have on this earth. How dare I waste one more minute worrying about my hair color, which – of course- can be changed back at any time?!!!

My friend at work is a woman of deep and certain faith. When someone dies, she tells us not to be sad. That its a joyful time – the dead are absolutely in a better place – at home with God.

She and I often hold different beliefs. This time, I’d like to think she’s right.

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