I recall standing in the bathroom and became so covered with grief and suddenly began cutting my hair off. It was at that very moment, I got a glimpse of what it is to lose sight of faith. I began to cry, looked at the scissors and mirror and saw an image that I was not happy with. I saw a broken little girl who just lost her dad and needed a very tight hug. I began to cry even harder. In the midst of my sorrow, my son came knocking on the bathroom door, wanting to use the bathroom. He never said a word to me but I am pretty sure he heard me crying in there. Since then, we have had conversations about loss and have spoken to a professional regarding the matter. Thankfully, we both are in a much better place and are embracing the fond memories of my father. Now I am stuck with an uneven, unplanned haircut LOL
All hope is not lost, even if it may seem that way.