The Things We Do For Love
Two 60ish widows leapt from their comfort zones and got tattoos to honor their husbands.
Patti was a petite, 60ish woman from Texas, who was clearly enjoying chatting with others in the crowd around her as she and her daughter waited near the Olympic Marathon Trials start line in Orlando. Her son was running to qualify for Team USA and the chance to compete in the 2024 summer Olympics in Paris.
As we struck up a conversation, Patti and I compared the attributes of our respective hometowns and along the way discovered that we share something in common — we each lost our husbands – Brady and Dean — within a year of each other. As relatively new widows, we quietly cited some of the unexpected challenges we’ve experienced navigating our new chapters in life. Suddenly, Patti grinned, raised up her left wrist for me to see and chirped, “I’m 67 years old and I got my first tattoo!”
Taken aback, I looked at her artwork, then quickly flipped my left forearm over and showed her the underside of my wrist. “Me, too!” I responded while laughing. Our eyes clicked sparking an instant camaraderie.
We humbly praised each other for leaping out of our personal comfort zones. And while our design choices were dramatically different, our inspiration was identical. Patti, a proud Texan, paired her beloved state’s official bluebonnet flower with a majestic cardinal – a bird believed to carry the power of delivering messages from loved ones who have passed away. Her tandem designs were linked by a tiny heart, creating a single image representing family and love. My choice — a bright, orange-colored handlebar mustache that perfectly resembles my red-headed husband’s pride and joy. In all my decades with him, I never saw his face without those whiskers.
Tattoos have healing powers.
Brady was no fan of tattoos, so as my artist, James, began etching ink into my skin, I could sense The Deputy rolling his bright blue eyes from somewhere above. When I peeked at the finished version, my eyes welled with tears. The emblem looked exactly like Brady’s beautifully twirled mustache the day that I met him. At the encouragement of a friend, I drove directly to the cemetery where Brady rests in order to celebrate what I had just done. The moment I turned the steering wheel toward my destination, our two favorite songs played on the radio, one right after the other prompting more tears. I knew instantly he was signaling me with his approval.
Getting a tattoo wasn’t an impulsive act, but it wasn’t one that took a lot of deep thought either. It wasn’t something my new friend, Patti, or I had ever considered before, but literally moments after the artist sent me on my way, I felt as if my fractured heart had been mended with a tiny Band-Aid. And for the first time in more than two years, I felt a bit stronger.
The death of a spouse can be likened to phantom pain syndrome; you’ve lost a part of you, but you can still feel its presence and its energy. You are left feeling off balance and unstable. Like a missing limb, your spouse will not be back to make you whole. Patti and I were intentional placing tattoos onto our left arms, routing a restorative map to our hearts.
Studies have concluded that tattoos have healing powers by serving as unique emotional memorials that preserve the wearer’s connection with someone who has passed away. Singer Chester Bennington captured it perfectly. “Tattoos are permanent and a lifelong commitment, the same as marriage.”
