Psychexero

My 7th tattoo, (my most recent, but not my last) is the largest one I have, and the only one that took more than one sitting to complete.  I hadn't gotten married yet, but plans were in full swing, and I felt like something was missing.
I lost my Grandma Harry the spring of 2005.  I still remember the day I heard the news, the feeling in my heart, and how completely devastated I was.  To this day, when I talk about her, I get choked up.  Here is where I digress for a short bit...
She was a very special person to me, she called me Lizzy (since my middle name is Elizabeth, and there's already a Jennifer in the family... made it easier and it was always what she called me, it was special).  She was everything a Grandma should be: loving, interested in her grandchildren and their lives, meddling, strict, booboo fixer, great cook, and made you want to be the best you could for her so she'd be proud of you.. The one downside was she was allergic to most scents, so if we picked her little bouquets of flowers, they had to be left on the front porch in mason jars.  I spent most of my life worrying so hard what she thought of me, I always reported my good grades, dressed nicely, did my best to make her proud.  When I turned 18 and started tattooing and piercing myself, chopping off my hair and coloring it funky colors, I was afraid to go visit because I didn't want her disapproval.  Shortly before I turned 22, I came home'ish for a visit to attend my cousin's college graduation in Lubbock, and we were all down in the pool having fun as a family.  To this point, I had kept all my tattoos covered around her, and in a swimsuit, that's difficult.  However, she had decided not to come down to the pool, so I figured I was in the clear.  After a little bit, I heard her voice, "Lizzy, get over here right now."  I panicked.  She was sitting in one of the pool side chairs, so I dutifully got out of the water and joined her.  She gave me the "look" and asked the question I had been dreading: Why have you been coloring on yourself.  Now, I think honesty is the best policy, so I told her about each and every tattoo, why I got it, what it meant to me.  By the time I was done, she was smiling.  She hugged me and told me that was all she needed to know, that she may not agree with getting them, but that she didn't think any less of me.  Then she asked if I had any further plans for more... We sat there for awhile and I told her some plans/ideas I had.
Fast forward to the summer before I got married.  My grandfather passed away just that May, and I was feeling fairly sad, lonely, like I would be missing important people there at such an important day in my life.  I decided that the way I could carry them with me, Grandma in particular, was to get a tattoo.  I found some pictures and set up an appointment with a local artist.  I wanted to give them flowers, not on a grave, but somewhere they'll always be remembered, they'll be vibrant and loved.  I chose flowers that reminded me of their home, their lives, and what I held closest to the heart, with a yellow ribbon for my veteran Grandpa and a Bible verse reminding me what their love to me was: unconditional.  The yellow ribbon is for my Grandpa who was a multi-war veteran, lifelong military man, who I was incredibly proud of and I held great respect for him.  The flowers: peach blossom for the tree in the front yard, lavender: the only scent she could tolerate and I remember the scent of it in the house, peace and sterling roses: they loved roses, and peace roses were her favorite.
The day of my wedding, I carried the tattoo with me, as well as a bouquet of peace roses with me down the aisle to remember them, and to have them with me on my day.  I miss them everyday, I wish I had more days, more time.  I wish they could have met Daniel.  But I know they're upstairs looking down, watching over me and my family.  And I'll see them again one day.