Random Sagittarian Bluntness: Lipstick
When I worked at Target, I helped a young lady find the perfect shade. But we both knew as she spoke about having the anxiety to be singing at her beloved grandmother’s funeral that it was more than a shade.
She didn’t feel comfortable singing in front of people. It reminded me of an unseasonably warm December and eulogizing our grandmother, Gertrude. I wrote the eulogy at 3am for that morning and put just as much thought into my lipstick, if not more.
You see, those of you who know my Nannie know that she left red lipstick prints on the cheeks of anyone she loved and talked to…
And on that day, I, too, would wear her red. From her makeup drawer, I would take that well-worn tube that had planted kisses on so many, unapologetically slick it across my full pout, in her mirror, through tears and take it with me to First Baptist Church, to give her a proper send-off after my eulogy.
It isn’t just a fad, a random shade, or a seasonal thing. It’s a first kiss, a promotion, and courage to date again after a horribly broken heart you never thought you’d heal from.
After my eulogy, I walked from the pulpit and kissed her face—leaving that very same love print she had left on many faces throughout her life.
It’s more than a shade.
It’s more than an inconvenience when a manufacturer discontinues our favorite color.
Down to the number, esteemed Elders would walk in and know what shade they wore on wedding days, when loved ones passed, or when they had the best days of their long lives.
It isn’t just a fad, a random shade, or a seasonal thing.
It’s a first kiss, a promotion, and courage to date again after a horribly broken heart you never thought you’d heal from. It's a fun night out with old college friends or taking life back after a divorce.
It is this beautiful granddaughter in front of me, mustering the courage to sing in front of strangers--sending her grandmother off to Heaven with all the love she has in her heart.
We found the perfect shade, and as I put it in her trembling hands, I told her that she would do an amazing job no matter what. Anything done out of love is perfect.
We hugged in that impersonal, awkwardly fluorescent aisle—strangers interwoven with the threads of a common bond. Tears streamed down our faces--without care of where we were.
She looked brand new with perfect shade in hand, possessing the security blanket needed to face her fears.
Though we would never meet again, I know for certain, she did her grandmother proudly.
