Most of us grow up seeing our mothers in one role: Mom. It’s only later, often far later, that we begin to understand who they were beyond that title, their inner lives, their fears, their dreams, and the versions of themselves that existed before we were born.
For Jake Bley, that realization came through a few faded notebooks, a short handwritten sentence, and a tattoo that now connects him permanently to his late mother.
A Mother Lost Too Soon
Jake’s mother, Nicki Bley, passed away in 2014 at just 46 years old after a year-long battle with Acute Myeloid Leukaemia. Jake was in his early twenties at the time, one of five children left behind to grieve a loss that felt both sudden and unfinished.
“As a young mother, our relationship was closer to a friendship than a usual mother-son relationship,” Jake later shared. “I could go to her about anything… she was one of my best friends.”
Shortly before her death, Nicki gave each of her children a personal gift. Jake received something deeply intimate: her handwritten diaries, kept consistently since she was eight years old.
The Diaries He Wasn’t Ready to Read
For years, Jake couldn’t bring himself to open them.
“It has been 10 years since she passed, and I only started really looking at the items recently,” he said. “It had been too hurtful to explore them until now.”
When he finally felt ready, one diary stood out, a small red Collins notebook from 1989, the year Jake was born. Curious, he flipped directly to the entry from the day of his birth.
What he found stopped him cold.
“Only a Little Fellow”
Jake had been born prematurely, weighing just 5.7 pounds. Beneath the medical details of that day, his mother had written a simple note in her own handwriting:
“Only a little fellow.”
“The second I saw it, I thought to myself, ‘Oh my god, these were her first thoughts about me,’” Jake said. “I couldn’t stop thinking about it.”
It wasn’t poetic. It wasn’t dramatic. But it was real, and it was hers. In one short phrase, Nicki had captured her first impression of her son, frozen in time for more than three decades.
Turning Grief Into Something Permanent
As the 10-year anniversary of his mother’s passing approached, Jake felt compelled to honor her in a way that felt meaningful and personal.
He decided to get a tattoo.
Nervous and unsure, he took the day off work and walked into a local tattoo studio without an appointment. He brought the diary with him.
“I didn’t feel like I could commit until that moment,” he said. “But my tattoo artist, Riley, was incredible.”
After hearing the story, Riley carefully copied Nicki’s handwriting from the 1989 diary and transferred it exactly as written.
“I love meaningful tattoos,” she told him.
It was Jake’s first tattoo, but any anxiety disappeared the moment he saw it finished.
A Weight Lifted
“It was perfect,” Jake said. “I felt like a weight had been lifted off my shoulders.”
Back in his car, the emotions finally surfaced.
“I cried happy tears,” he shared. “For the first time in a very long time, I was letting myself feel my emotions.”
The tattoo wasn’t just ink. It was a release, a quiet step forward in a grief journey he hadn’t fully allowed himself to take until then.
Healing Comes in Its Own Time
Jake is open about how complicated grief can be, especially when losing a parent at a young age.
“It’s not until years later that I started to understand the impact of losing a parent,” he explained. “And the need to not only experience, but feel, my emotions.”
Rediscovering his mother through her diaries, and choosing to carry her words with him, became part of that healing.
“It allowed me to really know who she was,” he said. “The good and the bad.”
@jakebley TW: GRIEF. I know shes watching over me. #Tattoo #Grief #griefjourney ♬ BIRDS OF A FEATHER – Billie Eilish
A Legacy That Keeps Growing
When Jake shared his story online, it quickly resonated with thousands of people. Messages poured in from strangers who had also lost parents, children who cherished handwritten notes, and others who found comfort in small, meaningful keepsakes.
“It has been so wonderful seeing the love pouring out from the community,” Jake said. “The thought that 10 years on, my mother’s handwriting, love, and memory not only live on, but are celebrated, truly fills my heart.”
Nicki Bley’s words were never meant for an audience. They were written quietly, on a single day, for herself.
Now, they live on, in ink, in memory, and in the enduring bond between a mother and her son.
Featured image from: Jake Bley