Cutting all Ties…

Shortly after my Mark died, I fell in love with the man I thought was going to be my Chapter 2.  I was in love with him. He seemed to be everything I wanted. He presented in a way that promised love and understanding and a future.

He did not.

He was, for lack of better words, jealous of a dead guy. He felt as though I was always putting the dead guy first. (Bear in mind, the dead guy had been dead just over a year when we got together).

Against my better judgement (and an actual question of “do you really think we should do this?”) we got matching tattoos.

They’re gorgeous. Musical and heart-y and romantic and lovely.  And did I mention matching? And we’re not together anymore.

He felt I owed him money. I paid him $400 every 2 weeks for a year or so, then $200 every 2 weeks for another year or so.  Ended up paying him close to $16,000.

I told him that I was done paying for things that I didn’t feel were my debt.  That I needed the $200 every 2 weeks to buy, oh, I don’t know… groceries.  (I had resorted to using the food bank because I couldn’t afford to feed my kids – yet he could).

He said fine.  Actually he said a whole lot more than that… but that was the end of the conversations.

The man who told me he had loved me for 20+ years, the man who promised to love me no matter what, the man who was supposed to be my best man at my wedding, the man who promised me that no matter what, we’d be friends…. cut me off. Blocked me on all social media sites. Refuses to answer any phone calls or messages I send. (Not that I’ve sent many – mostly about mail he still gets here).

Apparently my friendship was worth $200 every 2 weeks to him.  Nice, eh?

So anyhow… I’m left with this tattoo. This lovely, gorgeous, incredibly designed tattoo that matches that of a man who broke every. single. promise. he ever made to me.

Before I get married next summer – I’m getting it altered.

Today? Today was stage one.  The lines are done, one element is mostly complete, and this little heart at the bottom of the tattoo that I tried to make uniquely my own (but he insisted they match) has been obliterated.

Today, I truly cut the last of the ties I had to him.  Because I’m making my tattoo, my own. Not matching his, not similar, just mine.

It’s tempting to send him a picture.  But in the end, it only serves the purpose to hurt him – and I’m not playing that game.

Widda peeps? Don’t get a matching tattoo with someone who you’re unsure of.  Really that applies to all peeps – but especially widda peeps who’s brains are fried from the trauma of the death of their person and who are desperate to feel that connection again.

Because at some point… you’ll end up having to have it covered/altered despite how much you love the tattoo – simply because you no longer love the guy.

(Not entirely true, a part of me still loves him… just not a big part)

But wait until you’re completely sure.

When the tattoo is done – I’ll post before, during, and after pics.  But for now… I’m in the process of cutting the last of the ties.

Took It Off Again

When my ex-boyfriend and I were trying to work things out, I took off my ash pendant.

For a while… I forgot that I had taken it off. It didn’t cross my mind that I had taken it off.

And then a couple days ago, I found it on my end table.  I wanted to put it away but was in the middle of something else, so I just put it on again.   I forgot about it… wearing jewelry just becomes part of my skin.  If I wear it long enough I feel naked without it on.  If I take it off…after a while I don’t notice its absence.  (ask me about my wedding rings – i haven’t noticed that my fingers are bear in months)

So I put the ash pendant on.

And it bugged me.

It’s heavy.  I don’t know how I didn’t notice that before. It’s REALLY heavy.

And it sits right in my cleavage.  Right where my heart is, right between my boobs. So as I move around it bounces against my boobs.

And… it wasn’t comfortable.   I love it.  It’s beautiful.  It’s a lovely reminder of my dead husband.

But it didn’t *feel* right being on my body again.

I wear him in my skin.  I wear him in my heart. He is forever a part of me.

Maybe, just maybe, I am coming to that place of accpetance and moving on?  Almost fully at the “don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened state of mind” that would be so lovely?


I’d like to think that I’m coming to a place of peace.   To a place of… yes, I am a widow.  Yes, it’s part of what defines me much as being a mom did, being a wife did, being a student does.  It defines me, shapes the way I look at the world, but it is no longer my WHOLE world.

It is a big part of it.  Until I get married again, I’ll still check “widow” on the box, even if I have to write the box in because someone didnt’ think to put it there. Because it is so very much a part of who I am.

But it is no longer the focus of my entire world.

I miss him with every breath.  I wish with ever fibre of my being that we could have had the life we planned.   I think though, that I’m coming to a place of acceptance of what is.   Of the change in our relationship, in the change in my life, in the story I am writing for my own life.

I Got the Tattoo….

I had planned on having a memorial tattoo done in honour of my husband.   I had hemmed & hawed over what to get and where on my body to get it.

Something under my left breast?  Close to my heart?

Something on my right ankle, as a part of the tattoo for my kids?

Nothing really seemed right.

Then I remembered the tattoo I got done that included my wedding flowers – and I thought – wedding flowers… a single lily on my breast, with a hummingbird drinking from it, with Mark’s handwriting underneath it.  Some of Mark’s ashes were mixed in with the tattoo ink so he’s forever in my skin.

The tattoo turned out beautifully:


And I’m really really really happy with it.

There will be colour added to it in about a month… the redness is irritation from the tattooing.

The tattoo artist was Brian Snively of Sink the Ink Tattoo in Maple Ridge, BC.  I would recommend him to anyone.  He was kind, respectful, funny and fun to work with.   He was solicitous and I had a great time while it was being done.

This has been an incredibly emotional weekend.  Lots of tears, lots of laughter, and some pain to round it all off.   The pain was cathartic… and unexpectedly minor 😛

But the tears were what I needed the most.

I miss him, so very much.  Beyond what I thought I could ever feel.

But now I have a piece of him with me forever…