Something seemingly simple created a special bond with my late daughter

Getting my hair washed at a salon is one of my guilty pleasures. It feels like I’m being pampered, and the deep scalp massage feels like a luxury. But last week, as my head was in the sink, I felt tears welling up. I closed my eyes to try to stop it, but the teardrops just flowed down my face.

The hairstylist noticed. She sounded nervous as she asked me if the water temperature was OK. I told her in a shaky voice that the water temperature was perfect. It’s just that I’d been grief-punched.

For over 14 years, I’d bathed my late daughter, Cammy, many times a week. Before we moved into a fully accessible house with a roll-in shower five years ago, I used to dread giving her baths. I was always so scared that she’d slip under the water or out of my arms as I lifted her out of the tub. All of the twisting, turning, and awkward movements involved in giving a 4-foot-tall child with Rett syndrome a bath was nerve-racking and hard on my back.

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After we moved into the accessible home, I enjoyed giving Cammy a shower. She’d always smile while I washed her hair. I’d tell her that getting my hair washed was my favorite part of going to a salon, and I hoped I was washing her hair as well as the professionals did mine. The twinkle in her eyes assured me that she was enjoying it.

After the shower, I’d lift her onto a custom changing table at waist level so that I didn’t hurt my back while leaning over to change her. Heat lamps above her kept her warm while I did our post-shower routine. First, I’d put her favorite marshmallow-scented lotion on, then I’d brush her hair, put products in, and blow-dry it. I’d set my phone to camera mode because she loved watching herself get pampered — and I loved seeing her gigantic smile while I dried her hair.

Her younger sister, Ryan, would come in after Cammy was dressed and finish the routine. Having her sister glam her up and help pick out an outfit for the next day always lit Cammy up.

This routine went from something I used to dread to something I now desperately miss. Washing Cammy’s hair was about more than hygiene. It was a special routine and a bond we shared. The last time I saw Cammy smile was a couple days before she passed away, when I gave her a shower for the final time. I’m so grateful we had that moment and that she felt happy and beautiful.

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