Dad Ink...

I got my dad memorial ink the other day.  New tattoo artist and studio.  Hanman Ink!  Go there, Hannah is amazing!  I just loved everything about her:  her work, her artistry, her easy going attitude and spirit, the lovely space.  I think my traveling tattoo days are over...

There were several things I wanted - since I am a numbers person, I wanted my dad’s birthday, date of sobriety and his date of death.  I wanted his time of death.  And I wanted a slogan he said all the time.  And I got them all.  Scattered about my personage so that wherever I go, he too shall go.  Never far from me...his memory.

I mean, I guess I didn’t need to get all of that tattooed on my body...but I did.  The tapestry of me, now marked forever by my father, internally and now, externally.

It is part of my healing process. Taking something painful, and doing something painful with it, so that the mark remains visible.  I need that for some reason.  I need a physical reminder of the pain.  Emotional pain so not obvious to me when it remains on the inside.  I think I do so much better when I can see and be reminded of the things I have loved, enjoyed, survived and persevered.  I know, not for everyone, but for me, this is truth.

I have been dreaming a lot lately.  Lots of very vivid dreams, a few of which have been of my dad.  My mom is having them too.  It is odd, for both of us, he is younger, like 40 in all the dreams.  Which is strange that we are both dreaming of him at the same age, and an age he hasn’t been in over 40 years.  So odd how our minds and hearts get stuck in a place in time, forever transfixed in that space and with those memories.

The dreams haven’t been crazy.  And nothing to really report back about, but it is nice that he is visiting.  I am reading this book about signs from the other side and I don’t think I have really gotten one from him since his passing other than the dreams.  I am waiting.  I am hoping he will try to let us know he is ok on the other side and having a good time.  I so want that for him, no more pain, his mind functioning properly.  In my mind, he is paddling a canoe on a river, camping on a distant shore.  Tanned, laughing and happy.  That is how I remember him best.

I love my new ink and it was great to tell Hannah about my dad and why I wanted what I wanted.  I like having something to do with my grief.  I like having a purpose and a place to put it, not so much to shelve it but to have a place where it is displayed for my life that remains, at least for now, so I can remember, honor and visit when the moment strikes.  Grief is like that you know, needing attention and honor and remembrance.  

Again, still...