In The ChairWhen Lumpy died, Stinky came to me and told me that he wanted a tattoo. I was not in favor of it as he was underaged and I didn't want him marking up his body. Friends advised me that ba
That was the start of the changing of my opinion about tattoos. I liked what he chose to do, a crucifix with his Dads initials in the center. The art was nice, the size fit him well and it could be kept private with a shirt sleeve. No harm, no foul and at his Catholic High School, no one the wiser.
Our relationship growing stronger daily, we were clinging to one and other. At dinner one night, we were talking and I had told him that I was considering getting something that represented our relationship. I truly believe he saved me and is my NorthStar and while we talked, he convinced me that it was something I really did want to do. On the way home from the restaurant, we stopped and met the artist. I drew it out and the following day, I sat in a chair and the process began.
This past March, my Toots would have been 80 years old. She was a woman of substance and I am proud to be her daughter. Don't get me wrong, she made plenty of mistakes, but it made her human and I modeled plenty of my parenting skills raising Stinky after the type of Mother she was to me and my siblings. Her love of pretty things kept her gardening and always noticing the nature around her. Our backyard was like park and she responsible for all of it. Again, I wanted and needed a representation. I drew two cardinals sitting on a branch of a dogwood tree and again I sat in the chair. I am especially fond and proud of this one. It's large, it hurt, but it is beautiful in my eyes just as she was.
My last tattoo will be that of a needle mending a heart. It will bear the initials of the person or persons I believe are responsible for helping me get past my sadness and loss. I'm well on my way there and when I feel the transition complete, again I will be in the chair.