My tattoo begins as a watercolor of ocean waves crashing on my thigh, now with scars cutting through. The art continues upward, completed in stages from 2017 to 2022, flowing up my side to my shoulder, a colorful abstract with natural elements.
Before I could get a tattoo, I had to loosen my grip on perfection – I thought it either had to be perfect, or I would regret it. I spent a decade learning vicariously through my husband’s continuous tattoo projects. One of my favorites of Brian’s tattoos was a large, colorful collaboration between two artists. He knew they would have different styles and was open to the experiment. Ultimately, he preferred one artist’s work over the other. But instead of dwelling in regret, he repeated a quote tattooed on his arm: “Buy the ticket, take the ride.” Brian had chosen to have humans draw on his skin with no eraser; therefore, he accepted the risk. He rarely covered something up. He added to the designs and accepted the art with its imperfect beauty and humanity.
When I was finally ready for my own ink, I went with a big, colorful homage to ocean waves – honoring a powerful force that has repeatedly kicked my ass. Those waves remind me that I am not in charge around here. Just as I cannot control the ocean, I cannot control the outcome of a tattoo, nor can I control the chain of events that result in life or death.
The first ocean wave that reminded me of the fragility of life was when Brian and I were falling in love on the coast of Mexico. We thought we were clever, finding a nice spot on the rocks with waves lapping at our feet. However, a sneaker wave surged in, tossed me across the rocks, and would have sucked me out to sea if Brian hadn’t grabbed me. I was left rattled, glad to be alive, with easily healed scrapes.
Eighteen years and various tattoo sessions later, we returned to that beach. We reminisced and celebrated how grateful we were for our life together. We were living our dreams in Latin America, loving each other fully, and this time, we were happy to look down at the rocks from a safe distance. While we were wise enough not to tempt the ocean, unfortunately, our choices did not change things happening beyond our control.
On our way home from the beach, our shuttle bus crashed head-on with a semi-truck. When the impact threw us, I had a seat in front of me, which shattered my leg but stopped my motion, saving my life. However, the area in front of Brian was open. He was thrown farther, causing severe internal injuries. He was revived twice at the hospital, yet he died ten hours later.
Sorrowful yearning pulls at me from deep inside. I touch the scar running through my tattoo. In the most tender spots of tattooing, deep breathing soothed me. Now, with a breath, another wave of grief rolls through. As it does, I realize the pain is not alone but accompanied by the immense love Brian and I shared. The loving tenderness doesn’t undo the pain; it is additive.
This week, I was physically able to walk to the top of a hill at sunset and look out over the prairie and beautiful gnarly cottonwood trees. I was with loved ones, filled with gratitude and contentment, and…I wept with the sorrow of Brian not being there with us.
This bittersweet both/and, the intertwining of feelings, is as necessary to me as air. To not forgo one side for the other, instead allowing them both to be. Letting go of perfection in favor of my complex reality, I can welcome my scars. They are not imperfections to cover up. They dance with and cut through the waves, intersecting, and somehow offer me a glimmer of potential, of imperfect beauty and humanity.
Brian left his mark on my life. I get to keep the better person that I became with him. Our love will always reverberate through me. I imagine the loss will too. And that sets the stage for whatever comes next.
Photo Credit: Phoebe Lyn Photography
Resilient A.F. is about growing my capacity to hold a multitude of emotions and experiences – embracing beauty, pain, joy, grief, anger, love, and possibility.
Watch your “buts.” Does what follows the “but” really undo what came before? For me, embracing bittersweetness started with “I am devastated AND…”
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