I've learned a lot about grief over the last 15 years. The familiar fog that seeps into your brain within minutes of getting the news. The unsettling feeling of knowing there are a million things to do, but not knowing where or how to start. The ambushes that unexpectedly accompany a song or a scent or a photo. The joy of someone saying their name or sharing a story you've never heard. The difficulty of making your way through all of the "stuff'. The headaches and general pains, upset stomach and exhaustion. That state of being where you're laughing uncontrollably one minute and bawling the next.
Knowing it's all common doesn't make it any easier. And it sure as hell didn't make me ready for the news that Joe's dad passed away.
I grew much closer to Joe's dad Ken in the years after Joe's death. Without Joe around to take on his typical home improvement projects, his dad often stepped in. When our bathroom faucet started leaking like it was fully turned on, he came right over and switched it out. When the fan above our shower stopped working, he came by and fixed that too. When I needed advice about home repairs, I talked it through with him.
In the almost 15 years since Joe's death, I have been on my own unique grief journey and have walked alongside many others traveling their own paths. I've learned that there are no shortcuts around grief. The only way to get through it is to go through it. You can try to avoid it, but eventually it catches up with you.
When I look at our now 15-year-old son, I shake my head at how quickly the time has passed. He was still sleeping in a crib when Joe died. Now he wakes himself up at 6:15am to get ready to catch the bus for high school. Those days of him falling asleep on his dad's chest while they watched baseball from the couch are long gone and we have entered a new phase of grief with the death of his grandpa.
I still find it hard to believe that Joe's dad is gone. It was such a random and heartbreaking confluence of events that ended with his death that it still doesn't seem real. Yet, there we were cleaning out his home, reminiscing in the space that just a few months ago he was living in and keeping up on his own. I guess that feeling of shock and disbelief is one of the reasons I felt the pull to find a concrete way to memorialize him.
We had discussed it in passing while we were at his house cleaning things out, but it all came together when my sister-in-law texted me the day after the funeral. She said she was heading to New Hope to get a tattoo and have drinks with her husband. It didn't take me long to realize that's exactly where I needed to be that night. I canceled my previous plans and told her I was all in.
I loved the idea she had for a tattoo in memory of her dad and I knew exactly where I wanted to put my own version of it. But, I also had some other unfinished business when it came to tattoos.
About 3 months after my husband Joe died, I went with his brother to a tattoo shop in New Brunswick and got a tattoo in memory of him. Not long after I got that tattoo I thought about adding his name to it. I never did, but over the years as I grieved his death, the idea grew. Joe had very distinctive handwriting and looking through the cards he gave me over the years brought joy in a way I can't describe. After years of crying, smiling, and laughing over those cards, I knew that I wanted to add to my tattoo with something in his handwriting. For more than a decade I knew. I just never did it.
So when I decided to go along with his sister Jen and her husband that night, I immediately dug into my stash of cards from Joe looking for the perfect one. I ended up choosing the card he gave me on our 6 month dating "anniversary". It had R2D2 from Star Wars on the front and inside it said "If anybody says we're not in love, just say "R2". He had written a few sentences on the inside left of the card and signed it "Love, Joe". I looked through all of the other cards, but nothing struck me quite like the carefully written "Love, Joe" on the card proclaiming young love.
Our tattoo artist was kind and helpful. We were in and out of the shop in less than an hour. I couldn't be happier with the way it turned out. More than anything, I love that each time I catch a glimpse of it I am reminded that my superman loved me. When I am feeling overwhelmed, his love cuts through the mess and encourages me to keep going.
Now, with Father's Day almost upon us, I am feeling the tug of missing both Joe and his Dad. I initially started writing this post 8 weeks ago. I just couldn't wrap my head around finishing it until now. Grief strikes again.
As I have moved through this week though I was reminded of one of my favorite reflections that I've heard on grief. It's that grief is love with no place to go. That captures perfectly what I am feeling in this moment and as I look at both of my new tattoos. We will celebrate lots of love this weekend and for that I am so thankful.
