I just got my eighth tattoo and it’s far and away my favorite, which is what I generally say about the most recent addition of art on my body, but this one will be tough to beat.

The words, you may have noticed, are similar to the name of this blog, and come from a story that I wrote about Rob more than 20 years ago that first appeared in Esquire. Many of you have read it before and for those who haven’t, I’ll share it again tomorrow.

I read a brief excerpt from it at Rob’s funeral. In the past, whenever I came to that particular line­—You are the sand, little boy, and I will always be the water—well, it would just wreck me, but since I had been steadily crying with Caryn and Zach for the week that led up to the service, it just felt like another wave of the unbearable sadness that continues to wash over me.

But not today. Today I couldn’t be happier to have this new tat on my arm. I used to say how much Rob got under my skin and now he’s there forever! That’s really such a cheap joke because, as everyone knows by now, Rob resides deep in the heart of me, just like in the song.

Whenever I get a new tattoo, the first thing I do is send a photo of it to Rob and Zach for their approval, and maybe also to show them that I’m still a little bit cool. And that’s what I did as soon as I got home.

“So of course, you have to get first look,” I texted Zach with the picture you see here.

“I think it’s super awesome. Came out great,” he texted back. “Still badass even with kids shovel and pail.”

“Do you think Rob would like it?” I asked.

“I think he would like it a lot. Just cuz he appreciates cool stuff.”

“I think he’d like it too.”

Then I texted the photo to Caryn.

“Amazing…beautiful…makes me want to cry!!!” she wrote.

“Me too.”