“You’d look younger with a shorter cut.”

“Long hair is for young women.”“Isn’t it a hassle to maintain at your age?”

I hear it all the time. I’m in my 60s, and my hair is long—down past my waist. It’s a soft blonde-white now, like winter sunlight. And no, I don’t cut it. Not because I’m stubborn. Not because I’m trying to cling to youth.

But because of him.

Most people assume I just don’t like change. If they only knew.

Every morning, when I brush through the strands, I remember his fingers running through it. When the wind catches it, I remember him laughing, calling me his “wildflower.” He used to love my hair—said it made me look like something out of a dream. And then one day, just like that, he was gone.

Cancer doesn’t care about promises or future plans. It took him fast, too fast. And I made a decision, standing beside his hospital bed, his hand limp in mine—I wouldn’t cut my hair. Not until I was ready to let go.

So no, I won’t cut it. Not yet.

And when people tell me I should, I just smile. Because they have no idea.

Every strand of hair holds a memory, a piece of him that I can still hold onto. It’s my way of honoring him, of keeping him close even though he’s no longer here. It’s my way of not forgetting the love we shared, the laughter we had, the moments we cherished.

And yes, it’s a hassle to maintain at my age. But it’s a hassle worth enduring. It’s a small sacrifice to make for the man who brought so much joy into my life. It’s a way for me to show that love doesn’t just fade away with time—it stays with you, in the little things, in the everyday moments.

So when people ask me why I don’t just cut my hair and move on, I simply smile and nod. They may not understand, but that’s okay. Because this isn’t about them—it’s about me, about him, about the love that still lingers in every strand of my long, flowing hair.

Maybe one day I’ll be ready to let go. Maybe one day I’ll be able to say goodbye to my long hair and all the memories it holds. But for now, I’ll keep it as a reminder of the beautiful love story we shared. I’ll keep it as a tribute to the man who made me feel like a dream, even in the darkest of days.

So yes, people may keep telling me to cut my hair. But they have no idea why I choose to keep it long. And that’s okay. Because this isn’t their journey—it’s mine. And I’ll continue to walk this path with my long hair flowing behind me, a reminder of the love that will always be a part of me.