One of the ways I choose to grieve - tattoos are not for everyone

This is the tattoo I got shortly after Tom died - below is the explanation as to why I choose this one.

He was my strength - my soft place to land - the roots of my life that kept me anchored.  He is the one that I always knew would be there - no matter what - his love was the closest thing to unconditional love I will experience this side of heaven.  He held the strings of my heart in his hands and played them every so gracefully - just enough tension in the strings to keep me grounded and enough slack to let me adventure out.  One of  my joys in life is traveling down back roads that I have no idea where they will lead - but I never went too far that my roots did not draw me back to him.  

The strings have been cut and roots dug up and left exposed to the weather - where the waves of grief wash over the roots and the wind of sadness play over the strings.  Those roots once held me so tightly that I felt I could not take my next breath if they were ever loosened.  I have learned to breath without them but I continue to stretch out my hand in search of the strings and roots that were my life.  He still reaches back - but I cannot feel his touch.