Reve' Revival

I recently dyed my hair hot pink. This isn’t a super unusual thing for me, as I’ve had my hair almost every shade of the rainbow throughout the years, but this is the first time I’ve dyed it this color since I was 11. It reminds me of my friend Sammy Sue. We lost her sophomore year of high school to complications of cystic fibrosis. Sammy’s been coming to my mind and heart a lot recently, the past few years actually. Almost like a reoccurring dream gently nudging you to see something you’ve been missing. A whisper in the breeze… She’s been popping up in new faces I’ve met, new friends with the same name, my oldest son even randomly pulling the name out of thin air for one of our sweet kittens. Too many “coincidences” to be a coincidence. And besides, I don’t believe in coincidences anyways…

Sam was all but 4 feet tall with the spiciest, most sassiest personality you’d ever met. She was a force. I remember visiting her in the hospital during one of her many stays there when we were younger, playing with our new creepy “Furby” babies and listening to music and eating like teenagers, all the nurses knowing and loving her like family. She was the friend who taught me how to flirt with boys on instant messenger and what “a/s/l” meant. She was the loyal friend who performed the “Flying Purple People Eater” with me for the 6th grade Talent Show. I still remember the epic sleepovers at her house. Her room was every millennial’s dream. Complete with a see through phone, lava lamp and inflatable blowup chair. I can still hear her infectious giggle and her wisdom well beyond her years. Late night chats about boy crushes and making up dances to the Backstreet Boys and Britney, playing dress-up and planning outfits for dances, and experimenting with crazy 2000’s glitter makeup. I remember how cool I thought she was. How effortless she was in being herself. And I remember that one summer when we were 11 at Fiesta Texas and my parent’s let me spray paint my hair hot pink for the day with her and in that moment I felt as cool and free as her.

She was tiny and sick, but she was fearless and free. One of the strongest people I’ve ever known. She didn’t take shit from anyone and she spoke her mind courageously and unapologetically. We were told she died in the same way.

She died fighting. She died wanting to live. She died fully herself, completely alive.

It’s interesting how our minds forget to remember some things. Like Sammy, some things we lock away in some part of our minds and hearts. I don’t believe we do this consciously, but as a coping mechanism of sorts. We compartmentalize things, leaving some things out of our awareness that are simply too painful to be with until we can see them in a way that doesn’t break our hearts. They never leave us though. They come back to us when we’re ready for them. When we’re ready to hear the message.

Samantha didn’t live long, but she lived more fully than most, and what she left behind far surpassed a single lifetime. Her short life here taught me what strength looks like. What audacity looks like. What freedom within, no matter what is going on around you, looks like. Sam was free. She was her own person who lived life on her own terms despite any of her medical constraints. She was ALIVE, fully expressed, authentic, and beautiful. And she left that for us all. Like a vibrant shooting star that passes so quickly, yet leaves an imprint of inspiration on our hearts for a lifetime. The reminder that we simply don’t know how long we have in this life we were gifted with. 10 years? 70 more? A day? A reminder that it doesn’t matter your circumstance or what anyone else thinks, that this is YOUR life to fully live while you get to.

So here’s to you Sam. The star that forever blazes throughout space and time. Always here, always near. Your fierce heart and vitality lives on through hot pink hair and unapologetic joy that refuses to be tamed. I hear you. I’m listening. Thank you my friend.