The most spiritual moment I have ever had (to date)
I was sitting in a leather chair, the smell of disinfectant filling my nose the buzz of the needle filling my ears. That dread anticipation before the needle actually meets skin and begins its scraping path. This was not my first tattoo or my second but my third. The largest I have (and probably ever will have). This piece of ink marks the death of my mother which happened nearly nine years ago now (I was 14). I had been struggling with an appropriate image to mark this loss in my life for a long time so when on saturday the 15th of May when I was finally struck with inspiration I wasn’t expecting to walk away with a tattoo then and there but I did and it is beautiful.
I cried the entire time I was being inked. That has never happened to me before. As the needle bit the skin all I could think about was my mother and the tears flowed and they didn’t stop. I was lost in memories of both good times and bad. I wondered what it was like for my mother giving birth to me – her first child- changing her life for me, raising me, and then having to say good bye to me. I will never know these things.
I know have an indelible mark on my skin that symbolises my loss and grief. It is a beautiful scar on the outside that matches the scar on the inside.