Down in Ink
Permanence in an Impermanent World
Following Jackson’s accident, several friends and family members got tattoos in his honor – for many their first one. The eight ball was the next tattoo Jackson was planning to get, so many included that. I feel a deep sense of relief from these reminders of Jackson. He was here, and he meant something significant to those who knew him. In 50 years, when these young people are old people, they will be asked about the significance of their tattoo. A grandchild will hear the story of the young man who was a really good friend and who was so very missed. I am comforted and grateful that the finality of this loss is being met with the permanence of ink.
Throughout these writings, you will find more tattoo tributes to Jackson.
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Asked by a friend what this blog would be about, I found myself caught up. One part of my brain was struck by how obvious it seemed and another by how I couldn’t really answer specifically. On June 10, 2019, Jackson Coe Reavis, my oldest son, died in a motorcycle accident. On a sunny Monday afternoon just blocks from our house, his story ended.
So, what is this blog about? It is about what happens – what is happening – after. It is about a mother without her child, about a brother without his sibling. It is about going on when you just want to lie down. It is about finding moments of reprieve between the tumultuous, relentless waves in an ocean of grief. It is about life and love and loss.
It is about permanence and living life when something profound has changed – something intransient, immovable. Eternal. It is about profound loss, and the simultaneous experience of heaviness and hollowness that comes with it. It is about living. And Living. And choosing which in each moment. Or not choosing sometimes. It is about an uncharted journey and the experiences along the way – finding a path when no map exists.
It is about breathing. And one moment at a time. And, it is about a boy. One magical, lovely boy with a big heart and bigger smile, who barely had the chance to grow up before leaving this earth way sooner than he should have.
That is what this blog is about. All of the above. And other things. TBD.
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The name Grief Momma came to me when I was first thinking about doing this work. It signifies to me both the primary loss I carry, and it is a nod to the Motrin Mommas, or just Mommas, a soccer team of wonderful women who first met on the pitch. Decades later, we are still a group of sorts, sharing lots of other activities, and weathering the ups and downs of life together. In the depths of my loss, I was shown the power of kindness and community through these women.