Member-only story
A Son Tests His Family’s Resilience
I SLOWLY EASED INTO THE BARBER CHAIR, removed my glasses, adjusted my mask, and the barber swung the cape around me. I don’t usually talk much when getting my hair cut. It’s typically a relaxing experience where my mind tends to wander. I look out the window, maybe think about a song that’s been circulating in my brain all day, or wondering if I’ll ever get to ride my bike to Key West.
But this day was different.
I couldn’t think about a song, and my mind wasn’t wandering. I just felt empty and numb. It had been eight days since my wife and I were awakened early Sunday morning by a phone call from my daughter-in-law in Hawaii. She delivered devastating news, and it still consumed my thinking.
The barber broke the silence when she asked, “so how have you been?’
I paused for a long moment but felt compelled to answer before she doubted my hearing ability and repeated the question.
“It’s been a rough week,” I said.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said calmly, “What happened?”
Again, I paused to gather my thoughts. The room grew quiet as if the patrons seated there were waiting for my answer. I felt the lump in my throat growing and my body tense, but I managed to force out a reply.
