Permanent scarring of the skin. Telling stories of past experiences. Reading mottos, verses, and lyrics that touch our heart deeply. We become walking talking historical monuments of our own narrative. When grief strikes our lives, it can have the same effect as a tattoo. It scars us. It etches way farther than skin deep. Grief goes into the muscles, into the bones, into our cellular makeup. Forever branding us. The difference between tattoos and grief? There is no permanent coverup for grief.
I did not start getting tattoos until after Paco’s passing. It wasn’t that I was against tattoos, but maybe I just didn’t have the courage to take the leap into permanent body modification. Yet, when I lost the love of my life, permanently, getting a tattoo just didn’t seem as scary
anymore. Of course, I didn’t want to just blindly start turning my skin into a coloring book. I wanted to start the textbook of my life. I wanted to start telling stories. I wanted to start conversations without saying a word. I wanted to honor my experiences. I wanted my heart’s cries framed and hung proudly, no longer hidden out of fear. My first tattoo was a test, a way to see if I was just as brave as I suddenly thought I was. Silver dollar sized, black and white, just a simple design. Yet, it was anything but simple to me. Paco and I had always said he was my sun, and I was his moon. He was the fire that brought life back into me, while I was the darkness that balanced him. And the stars? The three kisses we gave each other every night before bed. The three kisses we last shared before he slowly slid into eternity. Anyone could look at my arm and think “Another young adult trying to look cool” or “She doesn’t realize she has ruined her skin” or even “She has no self-respect.” Yet, if they took just a second to ask and listen and care, they would hear wonderful stories. They would hear stories that make them laugh and maybe even cry. They would hear about the happiest moments of my entire life, while also hearing the saddest.
Now since this initial leap I have gotten four more tattoos, much larger and with even more profound back stories. I would be lying if I don’t have plans for more. I think that tattooing has helped with my grief. It has allowed me to grieve out loud, but without the screaming and crying. I am able to wear my grief proudly. I am able to look down at my arms and smile, allowing treasured memories to flood my mind even in the quietest moments. I know that tattoos are not accepted by some and even cause some to pass aggravated judgement on others without even knowing their name. Just like when others judge another person on their behavior without even knowing the immense amount of grief pulsing through their veins. Tattoos and grief aren’t that different. Accepted by some or seen as disgraceful by others. Wanting to be shown and admired or wanting to be hidden and buried away. Whatever you may think about either is your entitled moral compass. You are allowed to grieve exactly how you see fit and appropriate. That is the beauty of grief. Even though a part of my grief journey involves tattooing, yours may involve something drastically different. Maybe a good book and a cup of tea in the evening. No matter what, as long as you can stay true to your grief, just know you have one person here supporting you fully. No questions asked.
About Shanna Puckett-Anguiano
Shanna Puckett-Anguiano lost her husband after just four short months of marriage on October 1st, 2024. Shanna and Paco Anguiano were in a long-distance relationship for nearly four years prior to their marriage, as Paco was from Chiapas, Mexico. Shanna and Paco did not let the stigmas and hardships of the K1 visa come between their strong bonds. Anyone who truly knew this couple would quickly correct anyone’s doubt, with even Shanna’s father expressing his thoughts at Paco’s funeral saying, “every father’s wish is for their daughter is to find a man who loves them unconditionally, and that is exactly the man Paco was.” Paco was diagnosed with synovial sarcoma on September 20th, 2024, which coincidentally was also Shanna’s 30th birthday. Paco lost his life unexpectedly to that cancer 11 days later, a week before treatment was scheduled to begin.
Shanna continues to reside in her small hometown, located in the upstate of South Carolina. She is accompanied at home by her two dogs (Indi & Suki) and two cats (Es & Sister). Shanna has been a court reporter for the past 5 years and serves as chairperson of children’s ministry at her home church. She is currently in the process of obtaining additional certifications to continue moving up in her career. Shanna has developed a donation drive in her husband’s name in celebration of his birthday in the month of July called Paco’s Smile. This drive collects material and monetary donations for her local county cancer association. Shanna is an advocate for mental health, cancer awareness, and over all kindness being spread throughout the world. She prays to carry on the legacy of her husband, Jose Francisco Ovando Anguiano, by showing grace, gratitude, and a toothy grin just as he did every day.