The change came right before my Dad died. He got a tattoo on his chest that said, “God Will Not Waste Anything.” I absolutely hated it. I hated the font, I hated the design, but most of all, every time I saw it, I thought, “...but he did, Dad. You’re dying.” But something about seeing it on him all the time – when I would help him get dressed, or take care of him – began to set deeper in my mind. What was my Dad thinking? Is this tattoo for him? Is it for me?