Before I had my hair chemically straightened (the night before the accident), I rarely brushed my hair.
I only brushed it before getting into the shower to help eliminate my constant shedding not to occur in the shower.
Of course, I never used any of the five or six hair brushes I own. No, no, I used Roger's hair brush.
After showering, I normally just comb my hair but not always.
So as we were packing for our honeymoon, I refused to pack on of my hair brushes or my comb.
But I put Roger's hair brush in his toiletry bag.
And Roger, knowing that I used his hair brush but I would never admit to it even though he would see me (I'm strange, I know), took it out of his toiletry bag. I'm not sure now looking back why he didn't take it for himself.
I did not know this fact until we were in St. Lucia.
The whole time I was on my honeymoon, I could not brush my hair.
Not one time.
Not after being in the ocean.
Not when I tumbled across the ocean floor after being knocked over by a wave.
Not after wearing a helmet during the zip line tour.
The best part was Roger did this on purpose.
Something about teaching me a lesson.
He wanted me to pack stuff I needed for myself in my own bag.
So I used lots of conditioner that week and hoped I looked half way decent for the pictures we were taking. It was also a week lots of pony tails.
Silly boy or silly girl depending on which of us you talked to.
Now, I still use Roger's hair brush before showering.
It makes me feel a little closer to him since I have gotten rid of a lot of his bathroom stuff. I even still keep it on his side of the vanity.
I have had to clean it since his death. Which of course makes me feel like I've lost the physical evidence of his existence. It is also something that in my denial to Roger that I was using his hair brush, I didn't do before.
But its there. And its perfect. And I love it.