A Tale Of Loss, Grief, Guilt, & Art.
So I was going through some of my folders today & ran across one of my first books of tattoo flash. I was looking through it & when I arrived at the back cover I noticed a small corner of white barely poking out of the back flap. I pulled it out & this was in there. It was all I could do to not fall apart sobbing. Let me explain.
Years ago a buddy of mine, who owned a tattoo shop & was an artist himself, talked me into dip my toe into doing tattoos. I was already helping him occasionally doing tattoo flash. When I finally gave in he asked me to do a statue of Athena on his right arm (he normally did his own tats unless he couldn’t reach it with his right arm). He had already drawn the flash & the line work on transfer paper. At over six hours spread across two nights it took way longer than it usually would but that’s because he was teaching me different techniques & tricks the entire time. After that first one he constantly pestered me to be doing tattoos & even have me some very nice machines & power supplies. I did quite a few for friends & family And it even got to a point to where occasionally I would give him a hand in his shop on weekends doing fairly simple tats. His shop seem to get busier all the time & he got several offers to buy it. All were declined until one that was too high to pass up. He sold it & bought a new building about an hour away but closer to us & our hometown. Whenever I wasn’t working I was helping him lay tile, run wires, hang drywall ect. He finally had the money to build his dream shop & was gonna do it right.
At the time all this was happening he asked me to draw this & tattoo it on him. It seemed a little morbid but he explained it had wanted it for a while.& explained the meaning. Years prior to me meeting him, in a moment of depression & darkness, he had attempted suicide. He wanted this tattoo to remind him what he survived & how happy he was to be alive. I drew it up and one night after working on the shop on the weekend we sat down & I inked this up on the side of his calf. Once it was done we never spoke about any of that again (it seemed a touchy subject).
Over the next few weeks the shop was progressing & getting almost ready to open. I arrived one Saturday morning & was waiting in the parking lot for him to get there. I kept waiting & waiting. I started to think something may have happened to his ill mother, as she had moved in with him so he could take care of her. Finally, after 45 mins I decided to call him & see what was up. The phone rang & rang without an answer. I called back several times to no avail until finally, after about six calls, his mother answered. This seemed a little odd. I asked if Winston was around to which she replied “Oh honey.....” her voice crackled & choked then she finished “Oh honey, Winston passed away last night” I asked what happened & she said it would be better to talk in person. I drove straight there & when I arrived I could see she was a complete mess.
She explained that apparently he had got up in the middle of the night, left two envelopes in the kitchen, walked about 100 yards into the woods, & shot himself in the head. This was unexpected & a shock to both of us. It wasn’t like him, he hadn’t showed any signs, he had too much to live for. I normally deal with death very easily & rarely cry but this one tore me up inside. He was a really good friend, we were very close, & it was so unexpected. Oh, and the two envelopes, one was addressed to his mother & one to me. I wouldn’t open it for about a week & when I finally did, it broke me again. It was a three page letter explaining how he was grateful to have had me as a friend, how he could always trust & count on me, thanking me for all of my help with his mother and his shop, how he was proud of my progress as a tattooer, & then that he had left me a few things in his will. At the end there was an emphatic apology & explanation that he was just in too much pain & couldn’t bare it any longer. I actually had to go see a psychiatrist for a while after all this. The guilt of feeling I could have prevented it, nearly destroyed me. I eventually got over the grief but it was a struggle.
It’s been over five years & I seldom think about all that anymore. I still miss my buddy, he was a rare true friend & taught me so much but thinking about it still hurts so bad. Finding this tonight forced me to think about it again & even brought up the dark parts. It did teach me how easily depression & suicide can take someone from us. A lot of times they feel they can’t deal with the pain but if they consider the pain it causes to their family & friends it might prevent something horrible. I’ll end the story with this, never pass up a chance to tell loved ones how you feel about them & how important they are to you. It could save a life.