I’ve always wanted a tattoo, but could never figure out what I’d want on my body forever, so years ago I told my dad, “I won’t get a tattoo until you or mom die. I’ll get a memorial tattoo.”
The memorial tattoo came sooner than I’d like, but I figured since I told him that I better go through with it, so it was a perfect thing to add to my 40 in 40.
My dad loved lilacs and he planted them everywhere, so when I was trying to think of flowers to include in the tattoo, that was a no-brainer. Instead of having a lilac branch I asked my tattoo artist to take the flowers from a lilac and put them into the shape of a heart.
My sister Shelly had the great idea of throwing a golf ball into the flowers. My dad loved to golf and sometimes he liked to play the whole course, including the trees alongside a hole. This golf ball might’ve been one he was never able to retrieve.
And, lastly, the crown. My dad’s name was LeRoy, which means “The King,” and the smartass never let us live it down. “I am the king, you know,” is something we’d hear regularly, so I knew I had to fit a crown on the tattoo somewhere.
I think he’d be happy his crown got in there.
Miss you, dad.