Even when my dad's body started falling apart at age 81, grooming was important to him. With a close shave and combed hair, he felt a little like his old self, even though he knew the old self was never coming back.
Memories live in the most unlikely places... in a scent, an old t-shirt, a teacup. In my case, it's my father's face. Not the one he was born with, but the one he wore on his wrist.
My atheist friends tell me it was my subconscious. Others are convinced it was angels or God. Whomever or whatever it was guided me to a priceless gift when I accepted my father's invitation.