![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUn851_yqXbgQzbrVq_s01Fo-NKNs05p1b9UgwIHUmZFLPAQ6Ora_mK5rPWV6hb72g4bS1VznzDlg_wCvYo5Ur1_w_ILXs4sjYUVPXIrIw4h9Bvsnmn2ThiN4m-qvmaVpK9FQhAtml/s640/Kealii+left+arm+top.jpg)
Mind you, readers, that the last time I saw my nephew Keali'i, he was not yet into the his teens or, if he was, he had just started. So when I saw him for the first time in nearly twenty years, I was stunned. There, in the blindingly bright sunlight, where once I had remembered a boy, stood a man.
My first glimpse of his tattoos was at a time when I wasn't thinking much about ink - a sad occasion that gives everyone a bit of perspective, in the bright shadows between the living and the dead.
It wasn't until later that evening, as small glasses with clear liquor were raised in honor of a departed husband, father, and grandfather, when the talk of tattoos began.
I had known Keali'i had ink, but I never realized how much. He has two full sleeves and he kindly shares them here.
His left arm is distinguished by a black and gray depiction of a skeletal warrior king presiding over a dark domain. Skulls are prevalent in the flowing piece that runs the full length of the arm:
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