Two years ago, my friend Ms. Lora died of breast cancer. The thing is, we knew she would die, but were surprised when she did. She died on a Tuesday. The day before, Monday, Mom and I went to see her. Mom didn't want to take me because I was only six...and she didn't think that six year olds don't belong in hospitals with the dying.
God worked it out so that there was no babysitter and I HAD to go with Mom. I remember standing in the hospital room and thinking that I missed Ms. Lora already. Ms. Lora was like a grandma to me. She would pull out every toy in her house when Mom and I came over. I remember hearing little bits of conversation between Mom and Ms. Lora while I played on the floor. If you were to look at them and not know that they were not related, you would think they were mother and daughter.
Ms. Lora's funeral was the first funeral I ever went to. I think that's when I decided that I wanted to do something so people would remember Ms. Lora. After the funeral. After a long time. I asked Mom what we could do. She told me about the first time Ms. Lora had cancer, and about how her hair fell out and she had to wear a wig. I asked where the wigs came from, and Mom told me that there are charities, places that give wigs to cancer patients.
I don't remember how the subject of little girls with cancer came up, but I do remember thinking that I had so much hair. I told my Mom I wanted to grow my hair out and donate it to a little girl, but to do it in Ms. Lora's memory so people would know that she made a big difference in my life. She really, really loved me, and she wasn't a blood member of my family. You could feel that love. Like a warm blanket.
Yesterday was two years since Ms. Lora went to be with Jesus. Mom cut my hair. She cried. I didn't. If my hair makes a difference to a little girl, then I am happy. If this means that she feels like a normal little girl while she fights cancer, then I am happy.
I will do this again in three years, on October 16, 2017.