The Pink Wig

What is it about the pink wig that I love so much? Is it the attention?

Nope.

Is it the color itself?

Nah.

Is it the fact that it's a wig?

No.

It's the memories that go into it. What memories?

There was once a very special person in my life. This person was better than any boy at the club or in the office. This person was so near and dear to me. I came to college in the fall of 2010. I had just graduated high school, and I was ready for the next adventure of my life. After only weeks of being there, it was where I was meant to be. I was raised by my father and my mother until the age of 7, at which point my father passed away. My mother turned to drugs, leaving my grandmother to raise me from that point forward.

My grandmother (Memaw) taught me more things in my life than any other person. She taught me to use the love I was gifted with to help someone out. Throughout my life, I have tried to apply to this everything that I do. I slip every once in a while....okay. I slip a lot. But hell, who doesn't?  Memaw was the kindest and most compassionate person I have ever encountered. I sometimes believe that her sole purpose in life was to raise me and instill this kindness and compassion into me. I think she did a great job at doing that.

Memaw suffered from many medical complications. To put it simply, when I go to the doctor I check every box for "family history." Every night, I would pray as I lay in bed. This is something Memaw also taught me to do. She told me that I should always start my prayers by saying thank you for three things. It should be three different things from last night, and three different things from what I will say thanks for tomorrow night. She explained that God is constantly getting requests, complaints, and worries. She then asked me if I would enjoy it if every time she greeted me it was the pains and struggles of her day. It all made too much sense. I was sure to start doing it. Regardless of the three things I would be thankful for, the one consistent prayer I made was this..."Dear God, please allow me to keep Memaw around just until I go to college." I was old enough to know that although I would have preferred her to stick around until I died, she was getting older.

Little did I know, God would definitely accommodate my request. I was a freshman in college when I received a call. It was Memaw. She had told me she was diagnosed with brain cancer. I started crying and she started laughing. She told me not to worry. She told me that everything would work out the way it was meant to be. I was so overwhelmed with dysphoria by this statement. How can she say that? Does she know how much she means to me? I made it a point to try and come home more often with this diagnosis. She's had cancer before, but the fact that it was brain cancer concerned me. Three cancers ago, I made her a promise. If she lost her hair due to chemo or radiation, I would shave my hair off as well. She told me I was stupid and I had better not. Unfortunately, she had no say in the matter. A few weeks after being diagnosed with brain cancer, her hair started falling out. I am a man of my word, so I surprised her with a phone call. All she could hear was the sound of clippers. As emotional as the situation was, I was sure to take advantage of it. I pretended to be Britney Spears while shaving parts of it off.

The next weekend, I decided to go home. I sat in the living room of Memaw's one bedroom apartment in a retirement home and she brought out a notebook. She said we were going to plan her funeral.

Are you fucking serious?

She would have hit my shoulder had she have heard me say the above statement. But for real, are you serious?! I told her no. She then told me something that I will never forget. "Dying is all apart of living." In order to live, we must die. In order to die, we must live. So I sat there. After being awkwardly quiet, I finally said okay. She told me the songs she wanted at her funeral. She told me the poems she wanted read. She told me the pictures she wanted displayed. It was a very surreal moment. I guess funeral planning really takes it out of you, because we were both pretty hungry at the end of it. That's not saying much though. If there is one person I could always count on eating with me, it was Memaw. We decided that we would go to our favorite diner in town. Right before we left, I had an idea. "Memaw, let's have some fun. Let's give the town something to talk about." I told her my idea, and she was completely against it. After 30 minutes of nagging, she finally agreed. When we showed up to the diner, this is what walked through the front door.

                                                                        The Pink Wig.

Although I usually wear the pink wig out and get black out drunk in it, it means much more than that.

Love.
Kindness.
Compassion.
Happiness.
Memories.
Optimism.

But above all, the pink wig means Memaw.