What My Mother’s Haircut Taught Me About Love

One day, I received a WhatsApp message in a caregiver group chat. At first glance, it looked like just another event invitation. But as I read on, something in it touched me.

The message was from Dr Goh Pik Pin. She shared that through her hospice service, she had been encouraging people to talk about how they wish to be cared for when they can no longer speak for themselves because of serious illness, or how they wish matters to be handled when life comes to an end. She called this Advance Care Planning.

The advance care plan will enable me to make choices for my future healthcare, especially if I can no longer make these decisions myself. This document will assist my family and my healthcare professionals to know, respect, and carry out my choices on my behalf to the best of their ability.

She also quoted the Buddha’s teaching:

death is certain, but the time of death is uncertain.

That sentence stopped me.

I realised then that these conversations are not meant to be delayed until a crisis happens. They are meant to happen while there is still time, while there is still voice, while there is still choice. They are not only practical conversations. They are conversations of love.

So I attended the session on Dignity Care at the End of Life.

Throughout the session, one takeaway remained in my heart:

Talk to your elderly parents about the wishes they still hope to fulfil.

Not all wishes are grand. Some are surprisingly small. But small does not mean unimportant.

After the session, I asked and listened more carefully.

My mum told me she wanted to have her hair cut by a particular hairdresser she liked very much. It was far from where I was staying, and it would take effort to bring her there. But I decided to do it.

And when I saw her afterwards, her smiling face, her satisfaction, the way she admired her pretty hairstyle, I felt something shift inside me.

It was such a simple thing. Yet it meant so much.

In that moment, I understood that love is often not found in dramatic gestures. It lives in the ordinary moments when we choose to make someone’s small wish come true.

Of course, there are also wishes beyond our control.

My mum wishes to see one of my siblings get married. That is not something I can fulfil for her. All I can do is gently explain that finding a life partner is a very personal journey, one that cannot be forced or hurried.

But even then, I have learned this: listening still matters. Even when we cannot grant a wish, we can honour the feeling behind it.

That session changed the way I see care.

Advance Care Planning is not only about preparing for death. It is also about how we live with one another now, how we listen, how we care, and how we notice what matters to the people we love.

Sometimes, the most meaningful gift we can offer our parents is not something big.

Sometimes, it is simply a conversation.
Sometimes, it is a car ride.
Sometimes, it is a haircut.
And sometimes, that is enough to fill the heart.