I felt like if I got my dad’s name or a ribbon like my family did, that I would look at it and remind myself everyday that my father is dead. So I was looking through the closet one day and found my old yahtzee box. He and I loved to play this game. He was the Yahtzee king. I only beat him once. We’d play everyday as much as we could in those short two weeks we were together every summer.
The longer I looked at the box, the more I smiled. It was the first time I had ever smiled since his death. I decided that would be my first tattoo. Terrified as I am of needles, I walked into the parlor with my box and told the woman at the counter, “this is what I need you to give me. These dice right here.”
Now I can look at my tattoo in the mirror and smile. I can remember laughing with my dad. I can be happy again.
Recovery day one.