So everyone says that once you've had a tattoo, you've been bitten by a bug that will never be satisfied. While my first tattoo was not painful by any stretch of the imagination, it did not leave me planning sleeves or extreme back pieces. This is not to say that I don't want another tattoo, because I definitely am planning on getting another one before I turn 26, but it isn't out of a deep-rooted obsession, more out of promise fulfillment.
Before I even had my first tattoo planned and scheduled, I'd talked with a friend about getting matching tattoos. This was a number of years ago and neither of us had any ink. He casually mentioned, while driving me and a friend around, that he was thinking of getting a piece of silverware or something similar on this leg. We were both in a wedding together and spent a lot of time joking about tattoos, YOLO tramp stamps were an option, and I made the comment that I'd get whatever he'd get--if only because I think I needed that pressure or push to take the initial tattoo plunge.
A few years went by and we lost contact. But then a chance run-in at a restaurant in a city where I didn't live and he was moving away from, caused us to reconnect. He brought up the matching tattoos and said he was still game if I was.
This time though, I was the one in control. He told me to pick whatever and he'd get it's identical twin tattooed on his body as well. Again, a lot of time was spent joking about potential tattoos; I mentioned Justin Bieber, my name, things I thought would be funny on a guy's body. We never seemed to make any serious headway on our matching tattoos.
Last summer he got his first tattoo on the top of his leg and a few months later I took the plunge and got the little guy behind my ear...and by little guy, I mean small tattoo, not a tattoo of a small person.
Then winter came and we lost Jeff. After his funeral, a couple of us were sitting in a diner talking about memorial tattoos, partially joking, partially serious. Everyone was sketching tattoo ideas onto napkins that were based on his nickname. But the first thing that popped into my head when I thought about my friend was the moon.
During many of our texting conversations, Jeff would talk about the moon, stating whatever phase it was at that night. It came to be that when I'd look at the moon, I'd think of him. Now that he's gone, this still holds true. Whenever I miss him, all I have to do is look upward and I don't feel quite so alone. Now that Jeff is gone, it only seems fair to get a tattoo with him...for him...and now the choice is pretty obvious. Who knows, maybe I can sneak a YOLO somewhere on the moon's surface.
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