For the Rest of My Life

I have three tattoos. 

On my right shoulder I have the words to my Grandma Taylor's favorite song encircling the Earth with a peace sign on top of it. "Let there be peace on Earth and let it begin with me."

I wanted that tattoo for FIVE YEARS before I finally was brave enough to get it. Throughout those five years, I would often talk to Philip about it and go back and forth between him being patient and understanding and him just being like, "Gah Erin just hurry up and do it!" I finally was ready around April of 2013. It was incredibly painful, took forever, and not exactly cheap. I am so grateful he coached me into finally getting it. Naturally, he was the first who saw it (aside from my best friend who went with me to get it.) I SWORE this would be my one and only tattoo.

I lied.

On my left wrist, I have "Psalm 91" with an angel wing forming the 'P'. This was the Psalm I used for my Grandma Woodson's eulogy. I got this one on March 10th, 2014 - the first birthday my Grandma Woodson celebrated in Heaven. The weekend leading up to me getting said tattoo was an eventful one for Phil. He had gotten himself in a little bit of a perdicament and it was one that would make getting another tattoo look like planting a vegetable garden for a community food bank in comparison. When telling my parents that I was on the way to get this tattoo, I prefaced it by saying that my news was NOTHING like what Philip had just told us. Once again, Phil had my back and of course he was the first one to see my new tattoo. THAT WAS IT. I SWORE UP AND DOWN I WOULD NEVER GET ANOTHER TATTOO.

And at times, I wish I was able to keep that promise.

On my right foot, I have the words "Never give up" written in Philip's handwriting. The day after we lost Philip, I spent hours trying to figure out how I would pull it off and finally, I had it done perfectly. I used a letter he had written me while he was at boot camp and traced the words. I knew instantly that the best way to honor my precious baby cousin was to get a tattoo. Of course, had I been true to his personality, I would have been super intoxicated and gotten it on my butt - but hey, I was never quite as brave or fun as Philip! Again, the very first person I had to send the picture to was Philip. 

Almost every single time someone sees my tattoos, they say, "Those are nice and all.. I just can't think of anything I would ever want permenantly on MY body." I take those words to heart and I understand them. It is a big commitment to look at something and think, "Wow! I'm going to have this with me FOREVER!" As I look at my three tattoos, I'm so grateful to have three amazing people that have contributed so much to my life. 

My Grandma Taylor was one of the funniest, kindest, sassiest, faithful women I have ever known. We had such a special relationship that involved a lot of teasing one another, a lot of laughing, and so, so much love. I can't wait until the day when her wedding band will be the one on my finger and I'll be able to look at it knowing that this band was worn by my beautiful Grandmother every single day. (Cool your jets, I'm not engaged.) When I see this tattoo on my shoulder, I'm reminded of my Grandma's love for music, for her faith, and for her family. When I read those words, I can still hear her voice singing them next to me in the second from the front pew. 

My Grandma Woodson was one of the toughest, most faithful, caring, and resilient women to ever walk this Earth. I lived within 5 miles of all my Grandparents but within like ¼ of a mile from my Grandma Woodson. I would spend so many days with her - in the pool, at the dining room table, watching TV, playing on her old exercise bike - just enjoying my Grandma and every story she had to share. When I look at my wrist, I'm reminded of the comforting words of the Psalmist and the comforting words of my Grandma. I'm reminded to seek refuge in God through all things. I'm reminded that my Grandma is watching over me and guarding me from harm. I'm reminded of how my Grandma lived every day to radiate the love of Christ and the joy she found through worship.

Both of my Grandmas passed away within 3 months of each other at the end of 2013. They were both 86 years old - their birthdays being one week apart. They lived wonderful, long, fulfilling lives. 

But Philip?

Philip lived like no one else. Philip spent every day of his life full of joy, energy, adventure, and courage. Philip was 21 years old. Philip may have been a grown man, but in my eyes he will always be my baby cousin.

When I would hear people say things like, "Not a day goes by when I don't think of them..." or "I can't imagine ever missing someone so much..." I would understand their words but not fully understand the sentiment - until now. There really hasn't been a day that I don't think of Phil or miss him dearly. Some days it's a little thought - I'll see someone wearing a USMC shirt and think that that's Phil's way of reminding me that he's still with me. Other days it seems like the grief will never end. I'll wake up and instinctively listen to songs that remind me of him. I'll be in my office and want to hear his favorite songs while trying to focus on work (okay some of his favorite songs - I DO work in a church after all..). At lunch I'll grab his favorite chips just to feel like he's eating lunch with me. I'll share little stories about him and smile at the end. Some days, some days are just painful. 

I've been told by some that I need to stop talking about Philip so much and to let him rest. This has been told to me with the best intentions and never in a malicious way, but instead they come from wanting me to feel like it's okay to move on or like they're worried about how much I still hurt. To be honest, I hope I NEVER stop talking about Philip. It seems like those stories are all I have left and it's my responsibility to share Phil's life with them. It's an HONOR to share Phil with those who have never met him. This grief is so vastly different than any other grief I have experienced... and I think that's okay. It's okay to miss him like crazy. It's okay to live every day a little more lively. It's okay to hang tightly to these memories. It's okay to think about him every single day. 

All three of these incredible people are ones whom I'm honored to have as a part of me. I'm honored that they are with me for the rest of my life. I'm honored that they are my family. 

I don't have any easy answers on how to make it hurt less but for the rest of my life I will be reminded to never give up.