“When I got my first one, he thought I’d done it to make him...

“When I got my first one, he thought I’d done it to make him angry.  He told me that only criminals had tattoos.  And he didn’t speak to me for three days after that.  I was his youngest daughter.  Both my siblings were twenty years older, so I was his little girl.  And I don’t think he could let go.  We’d argue all the time.  But he just wanted to protect me from everything bad that could happen.  When I was in high school, even if I came home from a party at 3AM, he’d be awake in the living room.  I’d hear the TV turn off as soon as I walked in.  And even after I moved out, he’d always call to see if I was OK.  Actually he’d make my mom call.  Because he was too proud to do it himself.  Mom would make small talk for a few minutes, then she’d always say: ‘Your dad wants to ask you something.’  I remember one time his voice was breaking on the phone.  He just kept pausing, and asking when I’d be coming home again.  I think he already knew about the cancer.  We discovered it so late.  By then we only had about three months left.  It was hard to see him get so weak.  He’d been strong his entire life. He’d been working since the age of fourteen.  Never for himself.  He never spent his own money.  It was all for us.  Eventually it got to the point where he could only lay on his bed.  He was so sleepy from the chemo.  But even then he kept trying to protect me.  He would just keep saying: ‘I’ll be fine.  Don’t worry about me at all.  I don’t want you to worry.’”
(Berlin, Germany)