What started as a joke turned into one of the most amazing gifts a mother could ever receive from her son.
Matt Shaha, from Arizona, spent nearly three years growing out his hair to make a wig for his mother, Melanie, who lost her hair after receiving radiation treatment.
“It’s a no-brainer,” Matt said. “She gave me the hair in the first place.”
Melanie had been battling a benign brain tumor for years. She had two surgeries in 2003 and 2006 to remove the tumor. But in 2017, when the tumor came back, she had to start radiation treatment.
“I asked my doctor, ‘Will I lose my hair?’ and they said ‘No,’” Melanie said.
But three months later, she did lose her hair.
“It’s hard when you don’t have hair. People can say things that hurt your feelings,” Melanie told Today. “I don’t mind being sick, but I mind looking sick. I’d rather blend in at the store.”
Not long after Melanie started losing her hair, her 27-year-old son Matt jokingly said he would grow out his hair and make a wig for her.
Even though Melanie thought it was a sweet offer but didn’t want to burden him, Matt was serious about it. He spent the next two and a half years growing his hair long enough to make a wig.
When Matt’s hair was long enough, he and a few coworkers went to his mom’s house to cut it off. Melanie said, “We were super pumped, and when they started cutting, we bawled.”
Matt even paid $2,000 to have the wig made. They found a wigmaker who hand-stitched the hair to make it lighter and more comfortable. Once the wig was delivered, Melanie had it cut and styled.
“Seeing her in it was the first time I had seen my mom look like that since she lost her hair, so it’s been about four years,” Matt said.
Melanie loved her new look and felt deeply touched by her son’s gift. “It sure fills your emotional cup,” she said.
Look at the joy on Melanie’s face! Even Matt is beaming with happiness. I love this for both of them and their family.
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My Parents Abandoned Me and My Siblings When I Was 15 — Years Later They Came At My Door Smiling
I was fifteen when my world shattered. My parents, whom I had always relied on, were frantically packing their belongings right before my eyes. “We’ll call child services.
They’ll take you away,” my father’s voice echoed as he stuffed his suitcase with clothes and belongings. I stood there, paralyzed, watching the chaos unfold, unable to comprehend the reality of what was happening. My little brothers, James, aged six, and Lucas, aged five, clung to me, their wide eyes filled with confusion and fear.
When the door slammed shut behind them, leaving us behind, the weight of responsibility crashed down on me. I became a parent overnight, thrust into a world I was unprepared for. The days that followed were a blur of panic, desperation, and sorrow. I tried my best to care for my brothers, but it wasn’t long before we were found and placed into the foster care system. The heart-wrenching separation from James and Lucas left a void in my heart that nothing could fill.
Struggles of Survival
The years that followed were a grueling test of endurance and willpower. I bounced from one foster home to another, each one a new challenge. Some were kind, but others were harsh and unloving.
The streets became my sanctuary at times, a place where I learned the harsh realities of life. I scraped by, working odd jobs, doing whatever it took to survive. The pain of being separated from my brothers never left me. Every night, I would lie awake, wondering where they were, if they were safe, if they remembered me.
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