When Pigs Fly
My best friend always said "when pigs fly". So when she died in 2001, I made a vow to her...she would live on in many ways, including in the ink that I would get in her memory. I knew right away what I wanted. A flying pig. I told the important people in our lives, my parents, her parents, and mutual friends. Everyone was for it, except my mom. I've never made a lot of money, so funding was an issue. Not the mention the fear I had of the potential pain I would be in. Then one day, my dad called me up, and asked if I still wanted the tattoo. Of course I did. He offered to pay for it, and my step mom went with me for moral support. I don't have a very high tolerance for pain. But, finally, a few years after I made the vow, I was doing it. I now have a baby pig with wings and a halo, flying over the clouds on my shoulder blade. (And it didn't even hurt that much). As soon as it was over, my step mom and I ran to see my dad at work, showed him. He got tears in his eyes. I would assume because Rebecca was like a daughter to him. I then rushed to Rebecca's mom. Still bleeding and still swollen, I showed her that I finally went through with it. We cried together, and spent the rest of the afternoon talking about Rebecca. My mom finally saw it a few days later, and was disappointed in me, but what ever. It's my body, and she was my best friend. It was the best thing I could think of to do in her memory. Everyone who sees it now, of course they ask the reason behind it, and I get nothing but compliments on it. And since I now know what it's like, I will continue to get more, of things that I care deeply about. That I won't "regret" when I get old and gray.