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Kara Keough’s Husband Kyle Bosworth Gets The Ashes Of Their Late Son Tattooed Into His Arm!

Kara Keough Bosworth, the daughter of Real Housewives of Orange County alum Jeana Keough, revealed that her husband, Kyle Bosworth, got a tattoo in honor of their late son McCoy Casey.

In an emotional tribute on Instagram on what would have been the baby's 5-month birthday, Kara shared a black and white photo of Kyle's tattoo, which shows little McCoy's footprints while their four-year-old daughter, Decker, is seen touching her dad’s tattoo.

In the caption, Kara explained the meaning of the tattoo, writing, “your ashes are tattooed on his skin in the shape of your perfect feet.”

“Your ashes are tattooed on his skin in the shape of your perfect feet,” she wrote via Instagram in a letter to her late son. “More of my tears have washed over your feet in the last five months than have fallen down my cheeks in the 31 years before you.”

“I can feel it coming every month, like a pressure system building before the storm that comes on the 6th. The air is denser, my chest tighter. It’s like trudging uphill, looking back to see how far I’ve come just before I leap off the cliff back into the pool of sorrow. Compulsively, willingly? I look at your pictures, watch your videos, indulge myself in the thinking of you,” she wrote.

“It’s a painful ritual, this opening up of the box that I’ve lovingly curated. The box that I try to keep in the closet, instead of out in the open. Other days, I unpack that box late at night when laying in your daddy’s arms, where your ashes are tattooed on his skin in the shape of your perfect feet. More of my tears have washed over your feet in the last 5 months than have fallen down my cheeks in the 31 years before you. Opening the box on the 6th is a brutal unwrapping of the healing cloth I’ve buried myself under. Yet every month on the 6th, I dutifully open it and confront the would-have-been’s of you.”

“You would have been 5 months old. You’d be looking like the marshmallow man in your sleep suit. You’d be chunking up, and fidgeting with my necklaces while nursing, pulling my hair with sweaty little grips. You’d be grabbing your fat feet, and attempting to sit up before nosediving into the floor. You’d be so proud of your new skills, and we’d startle you with our voices as they reach that ridiculous parental pitch cheering you on. We’d give you a lemon this month, watching your face scrunch up and your body shudder,” she continued.

“Instead, we scrunch up and shudder because of the lemons this life has given us. But don’t fret, my sweet boy. Your loss hasn’t soured us. You’ve sweetened us. Like salt on watermelon. Life after loss is a juxtaposition that only makes sense once you’ve tasted it. Because of our sadness, we seek joy,” she added. “Because of our pain, we find pleasure so easily. Because of our past, we live in the present. We remember that we only have a finite, unknown time between our birth and our death. So we often ask ourselves, “What will we do with this gift that is life?”







I can feel it coming every month, like a pressure system building before the storm that comes on the 6th. The air is denser, my chest tighter. It’s like trudging uphill, looking back to see how far I’ve come just before I leap off the cliff back into the pool of sorrow. Compulsively, willingly? I look at your pictures, watch your videos, indulge myself in the thinking of you. It’s a painful ritual, this opening up of the box that I’ve lovingly curated. The box that I try to keep in the closet, instead of out in the open. Other days, I unpack that box late at night when laying in your daddy’s arms, where your ashes are tattooed on his skin in the shape of your perfect feet. More of my tears have washed over your feet in the last 5 months than have fallen down my cheeks in the 31 years before you. Opening the box on the 6th is a brutal unwrapping of the healing cloth I’ve buried myself under. Yet every month on the 6th, I dutifully open it and confront the would-have-been’s of you. You would have been 5 months old. You’d be looking like the marshmallow man in your sleep suit. You’d be chunking up, and fidgeting with my necklaces while nursing, pulling my hair with sweaty little grips. You’d be grabbing your fat feet, and attempting to sit up before nosediving into the floor. You’d be so proud of your new skills, and we’d startle you with our voices as they reach that ridiculous parental pitch cheering you on. We’d give you a lemon this month, watching your face scrunch up and your body shudder. Instead, we scrunch up and shudder because of the lemons this life has given us. But don’t fret, my sweet boy. Your loss hasn’t soured us. You’ve sweetened us. Like salt on watermelon. Life after loss is a juxtaposition that only makes sense once you’ve tasted it. Because of our sadness, we seek joy. Because of our pain, we find pleasure so easily. Because of our past, we live in the present. We remember that we only have a finite, unknown time between our birth and our death. So we often ask ourselves, “What will we do with this gift that is life?” To my partners in pain: Don’t waste perfectly good grief, it can change your life for the better if you let it.
A post shared by Kara Bosworth (@karakeoughboz) on

Back in May, Keough revealed she got her first tattoo to honored her late son.

Keough and her husband, Kyle Bosworth, announced in April that their newborn son passed away due to childbirth complications. “He joined our Heavenly Father and will live forever in the hearts of his loving parents, his adoring sister, and those that received his life-saving gifts,” she wrote at the time. Three weeks after McCoy's passing, Kara's father Matt Keough passed away. One month after their devastating loss, the couple opened up about losing their newborn son on Good Morning America.

“We want his life to mean as much to as many people as possible and to let all of the positive ripples of his life be there,” Kara said in her first interview since the tragedy.

Photo Credit: Kara Keough Bosworth/Instagram