There are parts of our stories that are only ours because they were first someone else’s that we love. I try to leave gaps in my writing to make room for my children to tell their own stories when those parts are theirs, but there are times when their stories so impact mine that I must ask permission to share. And then I’m in awe of their courage when they willingly agree.
My oldest daughter fought with her mental health when she crossed the threshold of her teenage years. It kicked off the turbulence of my 40s. Her journey very much felt like it was mine. I too fought those battles and my mother before me. To watch her struggle felt as though it would rip my heart out. We’re far enough removed now that the tender wounds have turned to scars and we are all better for it.
She waited until after graduation to get her first tattoo, dutifully as her mother requested. It now sits above the scars of her struggle. The tattoo is a semicolon with wings. The semicolon is a symbol of hope. The story could have ended, but the author chose not to. It means the story isn’t over. The butterfly is beauty emerging from the struggle. Her scars once broke my heart. Now they tell the story of redemption.
Her plan for a second tattoo is a sunrise. I used to sing, back when I could, “You are my sunshine…” The story’s not over, and so the struggle may not ever fully be either, but we’re in this together and there is always hope. There is always a Redeemer.
And sweet girl, you will always be my sunshine.