Inked! Why I Got a Tattoo with My Daughter
I never wanted a tattoo.* Not even a little bit. Not before my diagnosis, and certainly not after. I mean, it took me a decade to commit to getting braces. Getting a permanent tattoo with a terminal diagnosis? Do you even know me, bro?
Well, if you can guess where this is going, you may know me better than I know myself. Parenting under the shadow of a terminal diagnosis can change things, sometimes in surprising ways.
About two years ago, my teen daughter asked if we could get matching tattoos. “Haha – No,” was my response. My position brooked no quarter, and she didn’t push – much. But as her departure for college grew ever-nearer, I felt myself softening.
Most teens – I hear – pull away from their parents. But for children with a seriously ill parent, it’s simply too risky to pull away. They don’t have the confidence that the parent will still be there when they’re ready to re-engage. (This disruption of a natural and important phase of child development is another example of how cancer doesn’t just affect the patient.)
So, for better, and occasionally for worse, my daughter and I are uncommonly close. And as she’s transitioning into adulthood, our relationship has become much more reciprocal. It’s lovely, and a bit surprising, to receive support back from the child I’ve tried to shepard through some rough waters all these years. I found myself thinking: well, maaaaaybe it’d be nice for both of us to have an external manifestation of the deep bond we’ve forged internally over the years.
One day I shocked her by conceding, “if you can figure out something I’d actually want on my body permanently, I’ll do it.” I’m notoriously picky about aesthetic things, so I doubted we’d ever settle on something, but it was a challenge she happily accepted.
For months she threw out various ideas and I embraced my inner Goldilocks, rejecting them all: too ugly, too big, too small, too predictable, nope, nope, nope. And then, this summer, she texted me, “how about a manta ray?”
We had gone swimming with manta rays in Hawaii the previous year. It was a special memory, and they’re beautiful creatures. Hmmm. “Maybe,” I said, “draw up some sketches.”
Then I researched and learned that in Hawaiian culture, manta rays are revered as ancestral guardians offering strength, protection, and healing. Since my diagnosis, I’ve often looked to my ancestors for strength, protection, and healing. If I am to pass prematurely, I really like the idea that she can look to a manta ray symbol as a reminder that I can still help guide her, too. Also, manta rays, with their unique “flying underwater” movement and high intelligence (smartest fish, who knew?), also signify moving through life with grace and curiosity. Those are nice values to be reminded of. I had to admit, this was feeling pretty “right.”
As the summer progressed and every day felt like a countdown to the heart-wrenching college drop-off, we inched closer to committing, but made no specific plans. Then, with just 2 weeks to go, while up in the Mendocino area, we wandered into Triangle Tattoo & Museum in Fort Bragg. TBH, I had reservations because it looked a bit like the set for a movie about a drunken sailor getting some regrettable ink. But inside, we met the awesome Madame Chinchilla, her chihuahua Chiquita Bonita, Niki Needles, and Loch Nic Monster (Nicola). These 3 (4) ladies instantly won us over. Twenty-four hours later, the deed was done.
For us, part of the college packing and preparations involved several tearful conversations about what would happen if my health deteriorated while she was away at school. We have contingency plans, but also a tacit acknowledgement that sometimes life laughs at our plans. These simple tattoos will hopefully remind us that the connection we have forged will always be there to help us navigate with grace and curiosity, thanks to the strength, protection and healing we offer each other. It’s a small external thing — the real legacy is internal.
*Part of my disinterest was due to a well-known prohibition against voluntary tattoos in Jewish law. I’m not what you would call a “Torah observant Jew,” but this prohibition has created a long-lasting general sense of taboo in the Jewish community, even amongst many of us who are not religious. Somehow, along the way, a rumor spread that Jews with tattoos would not be allowed to be buried in a Jewish cemetery. In fact, Eric reminded me that when we purchased our burial plots several years ago, we were asked whether we had any tattoos. Despite these rumors and cultural norms/practices, it is my understanding that the prohibition against voluntary tattoos is no more or less important than many other prohibitions (like eating unkosher food, or working on Shabbat). If Jewish cemeteries only permitted Jews who followed all the laws, well, let’s just say that wouldn’t be great for the Jewish cemetery business. So I’m going to trust that my unkosher ass will still be able to claim her burial plot. But, I also know a few Jewish lawyers who can argue my case for me post-mortem, if need be.
