Whispers

I've been toying with the idea of a tattoo since Henry was born.

I remember laying in the hospital bed, looking out the window at the trees. Sparrows flew in and out of the branches during breaks in the light rain. I watched the rain and the birds every time they took Henry from me - either to check his stats or to pass him to a family member. When he wasn't with me, it was hard - I was completely drugged up, and I stared our to keep from crying. We had no idea how long we would have with him.

Since he's been gone, I've seen sparrows as little messengers of love from him. Little loves - kind of in the same fashion that people say that a found penny is a penny from heaven. I went to my tattoo artist, put down my deposit, and she drew up Henry's Sparrow. It's beautiful, and it's one of the few tattoos that I have that will have color. It's going to be a watercolor tattoo. I love the style, and it's kind of perfect for him - washed away but still making an impact.

Yesterday was rough. I was mad. I felt cheated that Jason couldn't celebrate his second Father's day as a father of two - that Amelia would someday feel as lonely as I feel without a sibling. I want her to connect with someone, to have someone to look out for - and to look out for her. I want her to have a sibling in every sense of the word. I know how lonely life can feel without it.

So, I was going to drop Amelia off with grandpa, and walk over to the tattoo parlor by his house. I was going to throw my money down and just do it. Damn the consequences, forget the bills to be paid and the mortgage, the broken side door, the broken windshield, groceries.. I didn't. I played along with life's little game and just went with it. There's so many bills that we're behind on, so many more responsible places to waste our silly money.

But this morning, Amelia called to me from her room. She was in there, getting ready for the day (her responsibility is to get her jammies off and into her laundry basket), and she yelled, "Mama! Do you got your birdie tattoo yet?"

I need to be absolutely clear - I've never taken her with me to see my artist. She's never heard me talking about Henry's Sparrow. I've never said it out loud near her, she's never seen the draft - she should have absolutely no knowledge about this. At all. I couldn't breath for a full minute. I just told her that no, I did not have that done yet.

In the car, I finally asked her where she heard about the birdie tattoo. First, she said Zack - because everything is Zack. Then I asked her again, and she said, "Baby Henry, he's happy."

I lost it, internally. I try so very hard to keep it together for her. But my eyes filled and my heart swelled as I replayed her words in my head. He's happy. He's happy. Mind you, she thinks that the opposite of sickness is happy. But still - he's happy. I wonder if he came to her last night. I.. I just don't know. I'm floored.

Maybe she won't be as lonely as I thought. She might not be able to look out for him, but he can look out for her - and through her, Jason and I.

Because now, my end goal is to get my tattoo started. My artist moved, I'm going to email her and set up a time. This is for me, and for Henry.