Remembering Jeff: a tribute through ink and memory…
The first COVID lockdown in 2020 was incredibly tough. I was living alone and isolated for months. I rarely spoke to my mum because of our complicated relationship. I remember sitting at home, feeling depressed at times, and desperately wanting to go out.
I had a really close friend named Jeff during that time, whom I met at work. Jeff was one of the most generous and friendly people I’ve ever known, always wearing a sweet smile that could brighten anyone’s day. Jeff was more than just a friend; he was almost like a brother to me. We talked on the phone nearly every day, sharing randowm thoughts and laughing over the silliest things.
Whenever we walked past the Hunger Jack’s near Event Cinema in Town Hall, Jeff would pop inside to check if his friend was working, while I waited outside for him. For the past four years, that store has reminded me of Jeff every time I walk by… and it still does.
I never thought about getting tattoos and didn’t think I ever would. Jeff and I were talking on the phone after we had gotten home from a farewell dinner on July 1, 2020. The topic of tattoos randomly came up, and we jokingly tossed around some ridiculous ideas… like getting a Minecraft health bar tattoo on the arm, since we played Minecraft together so often. Even then, I still didn’t think I would ever actually get a tattoo…until everything changed.
On November 4, 2020, I received an unexpected phone call from my manager at work. I was told that Jeff had passed away that morning on his way home from work. I stayed silent throughout that call. My mind went blank, and I felt completely numb. I couldn’t process what he was saying. After the call ended, I tried calling Jeff, hoping he would pick up and tell me it was all some kind of mistake.
I don’t remember how many times I tried calling… maybe 5 times, maybe 10, or perhaps even 50. It wasn’t until I realised he would never be able to answer my calls that the reality started to sink in, and I broke down in tears.
It was a feeling I had never experienced before - the heartache, raw and overwhelming. It took me a long time to accept the reality. For days and weeks, I couldn’t stop thinking about him, replaying the moments we had shared, the laughter, the conversations, over and over. I kept trying to convince myself that it wasn’t real, hoping that somehow, he had survived that motorbike accident.
Two weeks later, just one day before his funeral, I got my very first tattoo - “Jeff” - on my left wrist. I hold onto the hope that we’ll meet again in heaven, that we’ll still be friends, and that I’ll have the chance to share everything that’s happened since November 4, 2020, and tell him how much I’ve missed him…
