Letting my daughter get a tattoo at 15 was my choice, and I stand by it. I do not care what anyone thinks, because the story behind it matters more than opinions.
Courtesy of Diana Register
Tattoos have always held meaning. In many cultures, they are a way to honor people, remember moments, or mark big life changes. Long ago, warriors would get tattoos after battles to remember those who didn’t make it. These days, tattoos are often chosen on a whim. That is fine, but sometimes they lose meaning. So when my daughter asked for a tattoo, I did not say yes right away.
I needed to understand why. Was she following a trend? Trying to fit in? After we talked, she told me she wanted a small, simple tattoo to remember her dad—who passed away from cancer when she was 13. Even with that reason, I still hesitated.
Courtesy of Diana Register
Her older sister, Savanna, had already gotten one a couple of years ago. Just a few Roman numerals: I IV IX—1-4-9—her dad’s police badge number. It is placed softly on her foot, and every time I see it, it takes my breath away. That number now means strength, bravery, and hope to our family.
When Chad passed, Kaitlyn was there. I told her she did not have to go into the room to watch him go. I told her what to expect—that it would be hard to see, that he would not wake up. I said i had stay with her in the hallway. But she did not hesitate. She walked straight to his bedside, held his hand, and stayed with him. When it became too much, she cried, shook, and nearly got sick. But then, through tears, she told him it was okay to let go.
Courtesy of Diana Register
She sat by her side as he took his final breath, the same way he held her hand the day she was born.
That moment showed me who she really was: strong, loving, and brave, just like her dad. Afterward, she stepped away from a few things but soon returned to gymnastics. Just one month later, she went on to win the state championship. She changed schools, made new friends, and threw herself into raising awareness for pancreatic cancer. Through every change, she honored her dad.
So when she and her sister wanted tattoos to remember him, I did not argue. I stood behind them completely.
Courtesy of Diana Register
I got a tattoo of his heartbeat on my foot, taken from the last EKG before he passed. I always loved resting on his chest and hearing the sound of his heartbeat. Now I can see it every day.
Our tattoos are not just ink. They are reminders that we are survivors. That we are strong. That we carry him with us always. So, yes, my daughter got a tattoo. And no, I do not regret it for a second. She is earned it.
