Life Goes On

I called the salon to schedule an appointment with my stylist to get a haircut. I’ve been letting my hair grown out, so it’s been a few months since I’ve gone in for a cut. When I asked for an appointment with Mario, the guy who’s been cutting my hair for the past five years, the receptionist told me she had some bad news.

Usually “bad news” in the salon business means the stylist has moved to another salon, so I was not bracing myself for truly bad news. Mario is dead. What? No, he can’t be dead. He has a house and dogs and people who love him! My brain, rational organ that it is, produced these thoughts instantaneously. Alas, giving reasons why something can’t be so doesn’t change reality. Mario committed suicide on Christmas day, two months after breaking up with his fiancée. (Yes, straight men can cut hair.)

I’ve lost three people in my life to suicide. Two relatives and now a guy I would have been happy to have as a family member.

The receptionist gave me an appointment with another stylist, and I was sad to see her working at Mario’s former station. His spot has been filled, but he cannot be replaced. He was a sweet man who deserved more happiness than he found in life. From now on whenever I get a haircut, I will think of him.

RIP, Mario.