I finally got my hair cut and colored last month, and it occurred to me that I hadn't done either since my mother passed away.
More than a year had gone by.
What makes this realization particularly interesting is that the last time I'd had my hair done was May 31, 2025. I had gone to the salon to have it colored and highlighted ash blonde.
The very next day, my mother passed away.
Gorgeous ash-blonde highlights May 31, 2025
I had no idea, sitting in that salon chair, just how much my life was about to change.
And there's a certain irony in all of this. I spent most of the following year grieving my mother while walking around with this gorgeous head of hair. On the outside, my hair looked lovely. Meanwhile, I was going through one of the most difficult and reflective periods of my life.
It's interesting how much can be going on in someone's life that you would never know just by looking at them.
It wasn't intentional that I went so long without getting my hair done again. I simply had other things on my mind. Losing my mother had made me look at my own life differently, including my relationships, the people who had been part of it, and everything that had brought me to where I am today.
And quite a lot has happened during that time.
The People We Lose and the People We Meet
I've lost people I loved, watched relationships change, and had to come to terms with the fact that some people are no longer part of my life. At the same time, I've been meeting new people, forming new connections, and discovering things about myself that I hadn't given much thought to before.
It's interesting how life works that way. We can be grieving the people we've lost while making room for people we haven't even met yet.
Some relationships end because someone passes away. Others change because our lives take different directions. And sometimes, people who were once important to us simply aren't part of our everyday lives anymore.
I've been thinking about that quite a bit lately.
Not every relationship is meant to remain the same, and I'm beginning to appreciate that the importance of a relationship isn't necessarily measured by how long someone stays in our lives.
Some people leave us with beautiful memories. Others leave us with difficult lessons. And sometimes, we don't fully understand what a relationship meant to us until much later.
A Different Kind of Goodbye
Summer of 1989- Before we ran off to Minneapolis on a Greyhound bus
October 1992
In September 2026, a little more than a year after losing my mother, I also lost the father of my children, Bate.
He was my first love.
We met when we were teenagers, long before either of us understood much about life, relationships, or even ourselves. We shared a history that went back decades, including the years we spent together, the family we started, and eventually the separate lives we built.
Our relationship was long and complicated. There were wonderful memories, difficult experiences, mistakes, disappointments, and things that took me years to understand.
I don't believe we need to rewrite our history simply because someone has passed away. The good memories are still good, and the painful ones don't suddenly disappear.
Both were part of our story.
We hadn't been together for many years when he died. We had moved on with our lives, and our relationship had changed long before his passing.
But there's something difficult to explain about losing someone who knew you when you were young.
Someone who remembers a version of you that very few people in your life today ever knew.
I found myself thinking about those early years, the people we were back then, and everything that happened between us. Not because I wanted to return to that life, but because it had been such a significant part of mine.
And then there's the grief of watching our children lose their father.
No matter what happened between their parents, he was still their dad. Our children had their own relationships with him, their own memories, and now their own grief to navigate.
I also thought about our grandchildren.
He passed away less than two weeks before the birth of our granddaughter, Isla Florence. We had both become grandparents, something neither of us could have imagined when we first met as teenagers.
And now there would be family moments he would never get to experience.
It's strange how someone can no longer be part of your everyday life, yet their absence can still make you reflect on so much of your own.
I was still carrying the grief of losing my mother, and now I was facing another loss, one connected to an entirely different part of my life.
I've come to understand that grief isn't always straightforward, especially when the relationship itself wasn't straightforward.
We can acknowledge the difficulties, remember the good, and grieve what has been lost without pretending the past was something other than what it was.
And sometimes, what we're grieving isn't only the person.
It's also the years, the memories, and a part of our own history that we can never revisit in quite the same way.
Family, Generations, and Changing Relationships
My children are getting older, too, and I've been thinking about how our relationships change as they become adults and build lives of their own.
Being a mother doesn't stop, but the relationship certainly changes. Sometimes we grow closer, and sometimes we find ourselves growing further apart. Where those relationships will be years from now, I suppose only time will tell.
I think that's something we don't always consider when our children are young. We spend so many years raising them, making decisions for them, worrying about them, and trying to prepare them for adulthood. Then one day, they're adults with their own priorities, opinions, and ways of living.
We're still their parents, but we're also learning how to relate to the adults they've become.
And in the midst of all these changes, I had the joy of welcoming my newest granddaughter, Isla Florence.
There's something wonderful about watching another generation of our family begin, especially after spending so much time reflecting on the generations before us.
One generation growing older, another just beginning, and here I am, somewhere in the middle, watching life continue to unfold.
I find myself thinking about my mother, the years she lived, the experiences she carried, and how much of her life I understand differently now that I'm getting older myself.
And now, as I watch my grandchildren grow, I wonder what their lives will look like years from now. What experiences they'll have, the people they'll meet, and the memories they'll carry into adulthood.
Life really is something, isn't it?
We spend so much of our younger years looking forward, and then one day we find ourselves looking both forward and backward, trying to understand how we arrived where we are.
Making Time for Myself Again
Meanwhile, I've continued working, building Eternal Marigold, and keeping up with everyday responsibilities. Much of this past year has been spent writing, creating, and sharing the things I've learned from my own experiences.
So getting my hair done wasn't exactly at the top of my list.
Those ash-blonde highlights had grown out into something resembling balayage, with my natural dark roots and lighter ends. I actually liked the way it looked.
When I started dating again, I thought it might be nice to get a fresh cut and go back to my darker hair.
I made a couple of appointments, but something always came up and I had to cancel.
I finally managed to keep one last month.
Nearly $200 later, I had my darker hair back and a fresh haircut. Not exactly cheap, but I was happy with it. And it felt nice to finally take a little time and spend a little money on myself.
Looking Back While Moving Forward
What I found interesting afterward was realizing just how much had happened since the last time I'd done something so ordinary.
The last time I sat in that salon chair, my mother was still alive.
Since then, I've said goodbye to people I loved, reconsidered relationships, met new people, welcomed another grandchild, and started building something I hope will continue long after I'm gone.
And somewhere along the way, I've changed, too.
Not necessarily in ways that are obvious to anyone looking at me. I still work, laugh, make plans, enjoy meeting people, and find myself curious about what life might bring next.
But I think differently about certain things now. Time, especially. The relationships we invest in. The things we put off, believing we'll always have another opportunity.
I've also come to realize that grief and happiness aren't necessarily separate chapters of our lives. They can exist right alongside each other.
I can miss my mother terribly and still laugh at something funny. I can grieve someone I've lost while enjoying the company of someone new. I can be disappointed by how one relationship has changed and still appreciate the happiness another brings into my life.
None of those feelings cancels out the others.
Looking back, I realize how much of this past year I've spent thinking about other people. The ones I've loved, the ones I've lost, the ones I've had to let go of, and the new people who have found their way into my life.
There have been some difficult moments, but there have also been some wonderful ones.
And somewhere in the middle of all these changes, I'm learning to think a little more about myself, too.
Not because I've stopped caring about anyone else, but because my own life is continuing as well.
I still have a lot of life to live, people to meet, places to go, and experiences to enjoy.
And I suppose making a little time for myself is a good place to start.
After all, it only took me more than a year and nearly $200 to finally get my hair done.
September 2026
Fresh color & trim hair September 2026
