One year ago, today, was the last time I saw Seth. It’s the anniversary of our last haircut, the one that Jean and I gave him, and the one he had re-done, the next day. We know because the receipt for the haircut was in his wallet.

He always wore a baseball cap, which caused his hair to do things that he didn’t like, like curl up around the back of his hat at the nape of his neck. But it was a Catch-22 situation. He started wearing the hat whenever he wasn’t happy with his hair. And then the source of his hair problems, became the hat-wearing, and its effect. And when it came to his hair, he was hard to please. He knew it, and I knew it.

So that day, when he called and asked me to cut his hair, I had questioned him about whether he even knew what he wanted, so I could evaluate the possibility of pleasing him. It was “just a trim”, he said. “Okay”, I said.

I was so busy that day, I could hardly see straight. That’s why my sister-in-law, Jean was there. She was helping me wade through my paperwork.

So, I began to cut his hair and she continued to work on some things for me in my office. After a while, she came up and said she wouldn’t mind finishing the haircut. He said okay and I was relieved. I went back to my work.

Afterward, they cleaned up the bathroom, and he came down to my office to say goodbye and thanks. He whispered to me, before Jean came into the room, that he wasn’t really happy with the cut, but that he would not ever tell that to Aunt Jean. Me, he could tell. After all, I was his mom, and it wasn’t something I hadn’t experienced before.

He was picky about his hair. So what? The important thing was, he didn’t want to hurt her feelings. He was such a sweet kid. She came into the room. He thanked us both. He hugged and kissed us, told me he loved me and said goodbye. Then, he left.

Of course, I told Jean what he had said. I knew she would understand and appreciate the sweetness. She has her own son and could relate to the situation. He was grateful for our efforts, even if he didn’t like the results.

It was several days later, after the funeral, and Jean had dried out his wallet for me. I was at her house, and she showed me the contents. Among the few things that were in there was a receipt from a haircut place, dated the day after our haircut. She asked me if she could keep it. I said, “Yes, of course.” We smiled and laughed at the memory. And then we hugged and I had a good, long cry.