Birds of a Feather

A couple of years after Nico died, I decided to get a tattoo. My intent was not only to memorialize him, but to mark my body in a ritualistic manner, to incorporate the loss into my physical being. I also wanted a visual reminder of him, something I could look at daily and remember him by.

I chose a tattoo of three birds flying together (pictured above). The birds are sparrows, and symbolize a return to home, freedom, and peace. When I look at it, I know my son is free and at peace and this comforts me.

I love it…but it is quite ordinary. So, when someone comments on it to say more than “nice tat,” I often feel compelled to explain its significance. It’s funny, but somehow the people I need to share my story with seem to be drawn to my tattoo. I will get a strange sensation during these encounters, as if the universe has thrown us together for a reason.

I first had this experience with a massage therapist who couldn’t get over my tattoo. I thought this was strange, because I’m sure she sees a lot of tattoos that are nicer than mine. She was really taken with it though, and I ended up sharing my story of losing Nico. She was shocked and shared that she had just suffered a miscarriage and was grieving the loss of her child. This grief was compounded by others minimizing her loss because the baby was unborn. You can find that post, “Divine Therapeutic Intervention,” here.

Last summer, I had this experience again with a customer and her daughter who had come to shop at the nursery department of the store where I work. I had spent some time helping them select plants and as they were preparing to leave, the mother looked at my arm and exclaimed, “Tell me what your tattoo means!” I was surprised, because as I said, I find the tattoo to be quite pedestrian. I wondered why she assumed it had any meaning at all- it’s just three birds.

I hesitated to answer. When I tell people my tattoo memorializes my dead son, the mood quickly changes and people fall into two camps; those who want to know all the details and those who make an abrupt exit, visibly distressed by the unexpected connection to death.

“Um, do you really want to know?” I said, with a nervous laugh, and followed up with something like, “No, you probably would rather not.” But the mother, now even more intrigued, insisted emphatically that she really wanted to know what it meant.

I took a deep breath and explained that I had lost my son and this was a tattoo to memorialize him. She seemed a little stunned, then shared that she had lost two sons, one to illness and one to a drug overdose.

We had a long conversation about how it feels to lose a child and how society treats the losses of illness, drug overdose and suicide very differently, which affects the grieving process for the parent. I explore this in my post “The Stigma of Suicide,” which can be read here.

After we said our goodbyes, I wondered why people who have lost a child seem drawn to this tattoo. Could it be the spirit of the lost child that leads them to me, as if to say, “Talk to this lady mom, she understands what you’re going through. You are birds of a feather.” *

I’m glad I can connect with grieving parents this way, because grief can really isolate you. It’s good for us to share our stories and know we are not alone in our grief.

*An old expression meaning people who are similar in some way.