My mom always said, “Your hair is your crown.” She had the most beautiful, waist-length hair, and she took pride in keeping it healthy and shiny. Every month, we’d go to the salon together, side by side in matching chairs, laughing and chatting as the stylists worked their magic.

When she passed away last year, I couldn’t bring myself to step into a salon. The thought of sitting in that chair without her felt unbearable. My hair grew long and unkempt, a physical manifestation of my grief.

One day, my best friend dragged me to Snip & Style. “You need this,” she said firmly. I hesitated but finally agreed. The stylist, an older woman named Maria, had kind eyes and a gentle touch. “What are we doing today?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I whispered. “I just… I want to feel like myself again.”

Maria nodded and began combing through my tangled hair. As she worked, I told her about my mom—how she loved her hair, how she always made me feel beautiful, how much I missed her. Maria listened quietly, her hands moving with care and precision.

When she finished, she turned the chair toward the mirror. My breath caught. My hair was now a sleek, shoulder-length cut, just like my mom’s favorite style. Tears streamed down my face as I realized Maria had given me more than a haircut—she’d given me a connection to my mom.

“She’d be so proud of you,” Maria said softly. And in that moment, I felt her presence, as if she were right there with me, running her fingers through my hair one last time. That haircut wasn’t just a change; it was a tribute to the woman who taught me what it means to be strong and beautiful.