Grief and Grattitude

Grief & Gratitude: A Love Letter to My Cuticles Family

As I reached for my blazer in the small hotel closet, preparing to grab my favorite coffee during a short visit to Newport Beach, my cellphone lit up with Roni Rego’s name.

When I answered, she delivered heart-wrenching news—the third time she had done so in 2025. Another beloved member of my Cuticles family had passed away.

The moment hit me like a lightning bolt.

My heart ached, not only from the loss but also from a quiet guilt. I hadn’t contacted the families of the last two clients Roni had called me about. Why hadn’t I? They meant so much to me. I thought about them often, along with their grieving loved ones.

Each of them entered my life as a client but, over time, evolved into a treasured friend. In the early days of Cuticles, their standing appointments became cherished rituals. Our connection blossomed beyond simple manicures and pedicures.

The First Stage of Grief

At that moment, I realized I had been in denial—the first stage of grief.

I missed their smiles. I missed their stories. I missed how they brought light and laughter into Cuticles. These clients were more than names on a schedule—they were part of my journey, just as I had been a part of theirs.

I began to reflect not just on their lives but also on the people mourning them now. I felt the quiet, collective heartbreak of our small but mighty community. Once again, I was reminded of the unavoidable sting of loss and the heavy waves of grief that come without warning.

More Than Just Clients

This particular grief felt different.

I knew intimate details about their lives, and they knew mine. We shared life through laughter, tears, and countless appointments filled with real conversation and genuine connection. They weren’t just clients—they were community.

When I closed my salon doors in 2023, it marked the end of an era. However, memories and gratitude for my community live beyond 3814 Park Blvd. They will forever be etched in my mind and heart.

It hardly mattered that I was no longer physically connected to my salon or that those close to me might not understand the grief I felt alongside the families or grasp the weight of loss I carried with each passing client.

The Healing in Writing

Writing this blog has been therapeutic. But I delayed publishing it because doing so made the grief feel more permanent.

Still, today ( 4 months later), I hit "publish"—because embracing grief also means embracing the love behind it.

A Message to My Fellow Beauty Professionals

We often get caught up in the daily details of our work—perfecting pedicures, root touch-ups, brow arches.

But let’s not forget the authentic beauty in what we do:

The relationships. The conversations. The healing that happens in our chairs.

Those standing appointments and waitlists? They represent something deeper than time slots. They are trust. They are connection. They are a community.

In our line of work, we meet people from all walks of life. And in that sacred space, we see how much more alike we are than different.

That’s the true blessing of this profession:

We get to witness the best of humankind.

In Memory

To the beautiful souls who graced and warmed my salon, you will always be part of the Cuticles story.

Your memory lives on in every laugh, every shared secret, every moment we spent together.

Grief and gratitude—two sides of love. And I hold both in my heart for you.