This week I signed up to do the yoga challenge at my yoga studio. The yoga challenge happens every summer. The challenge is to do 80 classes and 20 doubles (two classes in each day) in 90 days between June 1st- August 31st. This will be the fourth time I have done the challenge. I have also started running for the first time since 2020 when we were all in quarantine. I use the term running loosely as there is only a minor difference between my walking pace and my running pace, but I have implemented running into my walks. I’m a little late in the game for getting my summer body going, whatever that is. Instead of jumping on the New Years bandwagon to get fit by summer, I chose hibernation in the quiet comforts of home and indulging in large amounts of homemade sourdough and treats with my boyfriend over my usual brisk walk or hot yoga class. After weeks with little to no motivation to do anything about the weight I have gained, I found myself actually avoiding yoga class because I didn’t want to face my body in the mirrors. The truth is, my body is changing. While I have weighed this weight many times over the years, and honestly quite a bit more at times, it is looking quite different than in the past. This year the few extra pounds are not showing up in the usual places, but rather new unexpected places. My pants still fit but I no longer recognize my back. This most recent version of me has taken the idea of self love to a whole new level which has me digging deeper than ever before to find acceptance and peace with my body. That is why I decided to do the challenge and to start running. I need an attitude adjustment. Even though this has been one of the happiest years in recent memory, I have been in a funk of sorts. This week I was reminded of what had started it when my client, George came in for his haircut. It also made me remember what is really important and another reason I needed to get back in the game.
George and his wife Vickie have been coming to me to have their hair done off and on for the entire 27 years that I have been living in Auburn. I think I must have starting doing their hair the very first month I moved here. I connected to them both right away, but mostly Vickie because I spent more time with her since her appointment included coloring her hair. After so many years Vickie became family to me. She wasn’t just a client, she was a friend. She saw me through both of my pregnancies, through losing Scott, raising my boys on my own, surviving my empty nest and every crappy relationship since. Vickie was always vibrant and enthusiastic. She met me every single time with a wide smile and a warm hug and exclaim, “How ARE you?!” and she really wanted to know the answer. She wanted to know everything. We shared stories of our families with each other, all the ups and the downs. She remembered everything and would often remind me of things I had gone through and how far I had come. She would say “I’ve known you since you were just Scott’s girlfriend!” She was truly one of my biggest cheerleaders.
In September she sent me a text before her appointment warning me that she had had changes in her health “Not contagious but life changing for me” she said. She sat in my chair and true to her usual she told me everything. She couldn’t believe it; her condition was terminal. There was a possibility of treatment but they were still doing tests to see how far along things were, so far it didn’t look great. She related her situation to what had happened to Scott, saying “Well, you know! It’s just like Scott. I remember how one minute he was fine then all of a sudden everything changed. How awful that must have been for you both.” It really had been awful. One minute you think you know what lies ahead and the next minute you are watching the person you love slowly decline.
When she came in for her last appointment in late October, she was weak. George had to drive her to the salon and walk her into the studio for her appointment. She shared with me the goings on of the month and half since she saw me last and how things had progressed. She told me “I’m not afraid to die. If it’s time, it’s time. George isn’t handling it well though.” I imagined that was true. I felt terrible for what he must be going through. What she was going through. When her appointment was over we hugged, longer and tighter than usual. I told her I loved her and that I would make her some of the scones I had been talking about during her appointment and bring them to her and George.
Two weeks later I baked scones and drove over to her house to deliver them. George answered the door and invited me inside. She was sitting in her recliner with a blanket watching reality TV. I gave her the scones and some flowers from my garden that I had picked. We talked for a few minutes. As her usual, She asked me a million questions about my life. Here she was in her condition and she is asking ME about my life! And not just that, but she really wanted to know. She said I could come back anytime. I told her I would be back again soon. Unfortunately, the holidays were upon us and work was incredibly busy and time got away from me. As it turned out, it was the last time I ever saw her.
In January George reached out asking for an appointment. I then realized that the holidays had come and gone without Vickie coming in for her hair appointment. After the last time I had seen her, I was afraid to ask how she was doing and also felt guilty for not reaching out to wish her a Merry Christmas. When George came for his haircut he stood in the doorway to my studio and said “I have some news.” Our eyes met and I could see the sadness. “Oh no.” I said as he nodded the sad confirmation and broke down into tears as he told me she was gone. I hugged him, with tears in my eyes, until he recovered himself. He sat down in my chair and he told me everything. Saying “Well, you know, you went through it with Scott.” He looked bewildered, lost. I nodded in understanding and continued to listen. Though I could relate on some level, this just seemed so much more sudden. I couldn’t believe that she was gone so quickly. It had only been a few months since hearing she had become ill. The news of her passing really rattled me. I’m not sure how I got through that haircut or the rest of the day for that matter.
George invited me to the funeral and to the gathering afterwards at their house. I knew I needed to go, even though I wouldn’t know anyone there and they wouldn’t know me. I kept telling myself that I was just her hairdresser, even though I always felt like she was my fairy god mother. I knew I was more than just their hairdresser, she and George had even come to Scott’s memorial, but it isn’t like we had hung out and had dinners together or something. I shook these ideas off and decided to go, if for no other reason than to show support for George.
The funeral was held the following week next door to the salon at the same funeral home where twelve years earlier I picked up Scott’s ashes. Life has a funny way of bringing you full circle in ways you never imagine. It took all of my courage to walk through those doors again. Once inside, I saw George. He lit up when he saw me. I met his open arms with a hug.
“I’m really glad you came.” he said with sincerity in his eyes. “Thanks for having me,” I replied holding his gaze. I felt grateful to be included.
I squeezed myself into the back pew all the way to the end to allow others to fill in after me. The chapel was packed. I knew I had been asked to be there and I was supposed to be there, but I felt out of place. I was just the hairdresser. I thought to myself again. I knew I wasn’t just the hairdresser but next to everyone else in the room I was on the fringes of her life. There was no doubt about it, this was one special lady who everyone loved deeply.
I looked down at the program that George had handed me. I was taken aback that it had a picture of a woman I had never met. It was Vickie, but a much younger Vickie. I’m guessing maybe the picture was taken in her 40’s . As lovely as the picture was, it was not the Vickie I knew and loved. I then opened it up to see that her date of birth was only one month off from my mom’s birthday. All this time I thought she was in her 60’s and here she was 78! I continued to read and see that she and George had been married for 57 years! I felt like I was only just then learning so much that I didn’t know and it felt very unsettling. I looked to the front of the chapel to see a movie screen with photos shuffling of Vickie. There were pictures of her as a child all the way to early days with her and George and their 57 years together. I sat and watched quietly, taking it all in. There seemed to be hundreds of pictures. There were pictures of them in their 20’s running together, their bodies fit and their skin glowing with youth. The pictures conveyed a remarkable life together. I was struck at how it felt like I was watching a slide show of a stranger. She was stunningly beautiful in her younger years. I watched carefully hoping for one that looked like the Vicky I knew. Desperately wanting to feel more connected, I felt offended by the beauty of her youth. I realized that I had only known her since she had been in her 50’s, so this other woman was foreign to me.
Her family told stories, all of them embodying her personality in such a way that I finally felt the connection I needed. It was sweet to see all the family members she had spoke of for the twenty seven years I knew her. It felt cathartic for me to put faces to the names I knew, and to hear her loved ones tell the stories about times I had heard about through Vickie over the years.
After the service I left discreetly, choosing not to go to the gathering afterwards because it felt too personal, too intimate. I didn’t want to talk to anyone. The only thing I wanted was to be alone and go for a hike. I got into my car and drove home, picked up Clyde and drove to the canyon. It was good to be alone with my memories for a bit to sort myself out. I walked and I cried and talked to Vickie. When I was done, I went to yoga. I was still sad, but it helped.
Over the next few days I thought a lot about the service and how the pictures of her weren’t the Vickie I knew. It really bothered me that the picture that was chosen on the program didn’t look like her. She looked fantastic in the photo, but it wasn’t the Vickie I knew and loved. I wished I had a more current picture or at least one in the last 10 years or so. I realized that Vickie must have been in her early 50’s when I met her. She was the same age as I am now. It sort of helped me a little bit to realize that as much as I struggle with my changing body and skin and all the things that come along with middle age, none of those things are things that I remember her for. It wasn’t her looks that made her special. It was her energy that I remember, her light. She had such a zest for life. I remember the way her eyes would light up as she told me stories about her family, how much she loved her family, her infectious laugh and her endless curiosity. She made me feel special every single time she sat in my chair and asked me about the boys, or just wanted to know what was new in my life. She wasn’t just making small talk, she really wanted to know. I always felt a special connection with her.
We talked about everything. So, you could imagine her surprise when I failed to mention to her right away that I had started dating Daniel. We got caught up talking about her up coming trip and going over what I would do while house sitting for them. I didn’t tell her at that appointment or in any of the texts while she was on her trip. When she came back from her trip, I finally told her that I had a boyfriend and that it had been going on for 3 or 4 months. She exclaimed, “What?! You didn’t tell me?! Bonnie!! I’m like your mother!!!” She really was. I had always felt like she was my fairy god mother and guardian angel, here to look after me in a way only she could. “Tell me everything!!!” She exclaimed. So I did. She was so happy for me to finally find someone, and I was glad to finally be able to share some good news with her.
As I look ahead to the upcoming yoga challenge, the thing I am wanting to gain from the challenge is to reconnect to my own light and my purpose. I’m definitely wanting to get into better shape, but I don’t want to lose sight of what is most important. I want to focus more on how I am showing up in my life. Hopefully nobody will remember me for my muffin top or sagging skin but rather that I made them feel special and that I showed up for them. Those are the kinds qualities I would like to cultivate rather than grasping at the last bits of youth as they slip between the cracks of time.
