I Got a Tattoo And Here's Why . . . .

I got a tattoo today.

It's my first. I've thought about getting one for a couple of years but hemmed and hawed about what I should get and where.

Then something happened.

On June 22nd, my only sister, Gabbie, passed away unexpectedly. She was 32, a wife of 13 years to her husband, and mama to two boys, ages eleven and seven. She lived with severe back pain and lupus and she was also a breast cancer survivor but managed to do it all with a smile and optimism, even when it was very, very hard to have either. 

It's been a very surreal few weeks, seeing family, saying "thank you" over and over again in response to the "I'm sorrys," going through the motions of traveling, viewings, and the memorial service. Even now, I've traveled home to Oregon to hold a get-together for Gabbie's friends here and scatter some of her ashes in the ocean.

Last week, I spoke at her memorial service. Here's what I said:

When Gabbie was two years old, she hurdled a Sunday school shoe at my head. You know the kind of shoe I’m talking about? Black, patent leather with a buckle and a little heel on it. She threw it just the right and hit me smack in the nose with the heel.

She laughed; I screamed.

And then I went after her.

In the end, only one of us got in trouble and it was me. “You’re the oldest,” Mom told me. “It’s your job to look out for Gabbie.  You’re her big sister. That’s what sisters do.”

Our family was small, just Mom and Gabbie and I. I was six years older so I was more like a second mom to Gabbie. She hated that most of the time. But, as her older sister, I have had the pleasure of watching her grow into a beautiful, kind person, a wonderful wife, and an amazing mom. 

For the last few days, I’ve tried to put Gabbie’s life into words and I discovered it’s impossible. There aren’t enough words to do that. And that’s pretty hard for me, a writer, to handle. But Gabbie’s life can’t be defined in words.

When she was little, there was a song we often sang to her. You’ve probably heard it:

You are my sunshine, my little sunshine.

You make me happy when skies are gray.

You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you.

Please don’t take your sunshine away.

At first, those words sounded terribly sad to me. Then, it hit me, Gabbie’s sunshine is all around us.

It’s in every person who’s ever received a five-minute phone call that turned into a three-hour marathon.

It’s in every birthday card she ever sent. Or anniversary card. Or congratulations card. Or You-Got-a-Raise! Card.

Her sunshine is in every cheesecake and truffle or Thanksgiving meal she ever made.

We see her sunshine in the memories we each have of her, of how her kindness and optimism and sheer determination touched each of us in some way.

And her sunshine is in the smiles of her two boys, whom she loved with everything in her.

Gabbie’s sunshine will never, ever go away. The people who knew her will always carry a bit of her light with them.

A few days before she died, I posted a Bible verse on Facebook.

"Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.”--Joshua 1:9

Gabbie commented, “I needed that reminder.” 

It was the last thing she would ever say to me. 

She was always stronger and had more courage than she gave herself credit for. She withstood more things than most people can imagine and she did it with strength and courage.

I’m taking comfort that Jesus was with her during her life, through all the bad things and the good things, and I know she is with Him now.

***

So, today I got a tattoo for my sister and also for me. It's to remind me of Gabbie and that God is with me wherever I go. 

Just like He was with her.

Just like she is with Him now.

A few photos:

The Forbidden School of Body Art

Chris, Tattoo Artist Extraordinaire 

It's beginning . . . 

Almost done. 

The finished product. Joshua 1:9 as a reminder of God's faithfulness.
The pink sun is to remind me of Gabbie always.