Last Friday would have been my father’s 85th birthday. It sounds so odd saying that. EIGHTY-FIVE? Where has the time gone? He’ll forever be stamped in my memory as younger – a boney man with an unsteady gait, soft brown skin creased by time, gray eyes behind glasses that became unnecessary when blindness struck, weathered hands that smelled of cigarettes, and a surprisingly deep voice for a man who was under 5′ 10″.
I’ve been wanting to get a tattoo to honor him for a while now and have been ruminating on one in particular- his name in Braille dots. After pondering placement (I wanted to avoid a freckled area which on me is hard to do) and talking it over with friends, I decided to finally get it on his birthday. I like symbolism and symmetry and all that jazz. My sister came with me for support and to photo document it.
Happy birthday, Dad. You’re always with me.