New ink and a tribute to Jessie Craig

Two years and 10 days after the day that Nanny passed away, I got a tattoo inked onto the skin of my left arm.

I had planned for this from the first few minutes after we buried her. I knew that I needed to have her indelibly etched on me. I knew that I needed a constant reminder of her that I could touch and see and have. 

Thankfully, I found a tattoo artist that breathed life into what I wanted: Samantha Read of Inkspot Tattoos.

I booked the appointment and waited impatiently. I fretted over the whole idea. I hadn't told many people that I was getting a new tattoo. And I especially hadn't told anyone back home. Something inside of me wanted to keep the whole thing quiet. 

In the days leading up to my appointment I cycled through lots of emotions - anxiety, excitement, sadness, melancholy, and so many more. I cried, I laughed and I relived the days leading up to Nanny's death. I remembered how it felt to have almost every relative home in her house. I remembered passing around stories of Nanny. Of holding her hand and listening to her raspy breaths. I remember stretching out beside her the night before she passed away and sleeping curled up next to her like I used to do as a child. 

I remembered holding her hand as she faded into the night.  I remembered that on April 2, 2013 at 9:02pm my grandmother, my friend, my hero, my partner in crime, my second mum - took her last breath surrounded by her loved ones. It's a special thing to be able to take your last breath surrounded by your loved ones in the house that you were born in, that you spent your childhood in, that you lived your married life and raised your children in. And it was one of Nanny's wishes. And we honoured it. 

The tattoo that I got in tribute of Nan consists of a ruby throated hummingbird sitting on the edge of a teacup that bears the pattern of Nanny's bone china, with apple blossoms and her initials in a locket. It's beautiful. I love it. I proudly show it off and it gives me an opportunity to tell people about the amazing woman that played a huge role in my growing up. 

I've noticed lots of things that have reminded me of Nanny since she passed. But I'm so happy that I have a reminder of her on me that I can experience whenever I miss her. 

Letter to my grandmother

Dear Nan;

It's coming on summer. You know- those hot, sunny days you always said were perfect for picking berries. I think I'm going to miss picking berries with you.

I watch the sunsets. Every time I see the blue that matches your eyes, I know you are watching. I miss you.

I miss how papery your hands were. They never seemed fragile though. I watched you hull hundreds of pounds of berries, and peel thousands of potatoes. I never thought I'd miss that.

I miss going to the trailer with you. Stocking up on the necessities; which always seem to include bacon and chocolate bars. Remember how you'd get us all tucked in, and then pass out the chocolate? I miss those mornings when you'd get up to start the bacon, but let us stay in the bed all cozy.

I miss watching you make tea. I miss making you tea. Did I ever learn to make it properly? Probably not, but I don't remember you seeming to care.

I remember the day I told you I was moving away. You got a sad look in your eye, but you smiled for me anyway. I'm sorry I didn't come home as often as I could have.

I miss Scrabble games, and orange pop and salt and vinegar chips and holding hands and laughing and going for walks back the lane with you. I miss listening to the clacking of your knitting needles. I miss knitting with you. I miss reading with you. I miss everything.

I miss you.

I miss you a lot.

I love you. I always will.