Chandler Ink

So this just happened.

I have never had the slightest desire to get a tattoo. I’m actually so not tattoo savvy that a few years ago at a conference where I was speaking, a man asked if I had any ink, and I offered him a pen.

After Chandler died, we all knew we would be getting some Chandler ink. For the past year, I’ve been thinking, overthinking, analyzing, surveying, praying, discussing, and researching. I’ve scoured photo albums, cards, letters, my mom journal. I wanted the perfect image to represent Chandler. With every tattoo idea that emerged, the questions arose, “Is that the best image to represent Chandler?” and “ Do you want that on your body forever?”

I’ve contemplated, among many other things, hiking shoes, a unicorn (the art on the front of a birthday card he got me once), a silhouette of his face or of him on his bike, a candle (Chandler means candlemaker), song lyrics, a flower pot he made me in middle school. There was one image, one idea, that surfaced to the top early in my ruminations and on which I landed at last this evening.

I was nervous all day. Really nervous. Friends will attest — I conducted last-minute tattoo polls and processed my anxiety out loud. I realized that part of my anxiety lay in my unconscious desire to capture Chandler so perfectly in this til-death-do-us-part image that it would feel like he’d never left. I told myself, “This is just a tattoo. It won’t bring Chandler back or make you miss him less.” This took some of the pressure off — SOME of the pressure — to come up with just the right tattoo idea.

Tonight, Chase and I met at Vatican Studios where the insanely popular and talented tattoo artist Devin Mena works. The studio is an aesthetic paradise. Gothic style art tastefully adorns every wall. A graphic of the Last Supper hangs over one door in the waiting area, and an exotic fish tank bubbles behind the grey leather couch where clients await their turns. The attention to detail is over the top. The place even smells amazing! Like a blend of incense and a kind of cologne you actually want people around you to wear.

I arrived a bit before Chase, so I was pretty much set with my design by the time Chase arrived. I originally wanted the signature from a card that read, “Love, your Chandler Man.” Devin made a mock up of it. When he came back to show me, I said, “You’re going to hate me, but I have this other signature that might work better.” I showed him another card from Chandler. He liked it. I began to cry, “I’m sorry. It’s just really hard to decide what to….” “No worries. I get it,” he said.

Once Chase arrived, we had some time while Devin was finalizing my template to sit and chat. A thick-bearded shirtless man walked past us, apparently taking a break from the sizable back tattoo he was getting. Glass cases full of piercing paraphernalia stood at the front and the left side of the room. To say Chase and I felt a bit out of our element would be a gross understatement. We were likely the two nerdiest people ever to set foot in Vatican Studios. Neither of us had a tattoo or even any previous inkling to get one — until Chandler. I will say I was a bit cooler than Chase with my edgy double-pierced ears.

I was so nervous. SO nervous. About the pain, yes. But more than that, I wondered — am I making a mistake? This is forever! What if I don’t like it? What if I realize next week or next month that there’s another image, a much better one, that I should have gotten instead, one that captures the very essence of Chandler? Or what if I just hate having a permanent marking on my body?

My internal debate was interrupted by Devin — “Come on back.” It was time to stop thinking and just do it. I followed him to his room, perched myself on his table, and reminded myself, “You’ve given birth to four 8-pound babies. You can do this.”

The moment he put the needle to my arm, I was relieved. It wasn’t nearly as painful as I had anticipated. It just becomes annoying after a while. By my reference points, it’s not as painful as childbirth (without an epidural), eyebrow waxing, or blood draws. In fact, as my friend Dayna suggested would be the case, I’m already thinking of an element I want to add to my Chandler ink.

Devin finished his work, wiped off my arm, and I looked at it for the first time. It was as if I was looking at the card Chandler had signed himself. A perfect replica of his words to me. I loved it!

I imagined son #3 looking on. I said out loud, “I did it, Chandler!”

Then it was Chase’s turn. Chase chose to get his tattoo on his side like Chandler did when he got his epic Rolling Stones tattoo that spanned his armpit to his waistband. Devin recreated a photograph of Chandler’s silhouette with the sun shining onto his face. Stunning. As the needle made its way down Chase’s side, he learned that the ribs are the most painful place for a tattoo. We marveled that Chandler had withstood hours and hours of needle to skin right on top of his ribs.

After our Chandler ink, Chase and I went for a bite to eat at a new noodle place. The Chinese hamburger, the orange chicken, the fried rice, and the spicy beef noodle soup all exceeded our expectations and sated our post-tattoo appetites.

As we walked to our separate cars, our parting words were, as always, “I love you.”

WWHC — What would honor Chandler? Tonight’s tattoos at Vatican Studios, dinner at Bai’s Noodle Bar, and three simple words.