I lost my dad to cancer this past year and have been thinking about getting my first tattoo, at age 40-something, somehow honoring him. Oddly enough, at the exact moment I first thought about getting such a tat, my brother was sitting in a tattoo parlor, unbeknownst to any of us, having our dad's name and years on Earth beautifully inked on his upper arm. My brother chose the inner, much more painful, part of his upper arm reasoning that, in honoring dad, he could suffer a little pain for a short duration that was nothing compared to what dad suffered through.