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My Bizarre Childhood Wish Showed Up in My Mom’s Cremains
I found the one piece of her that didn’t get scattered.
This originally appeared on Modern Loss. Republished here with permission.
I’m more Disney princess than Wednesday Addams. So while I would have never identified as a death-centered child, I was definitely death-aware. I’m not sure how, but I knew one day, my parents — namely my mom — would no longer be in my life.
I have a vivid memory of her tucking me into the bottom bunk. Laughing, and definitely prolonging bedtime for as long as possible, I gripped her arms with mine. I loved her arms, the coziness of them. I remember telling her, “Mom? I want a piece of you when you die. Your arms are my favorite so probably your arms. That’s what I want when you die.”
Of course I had no knowledge of the science of preservation. I didn’t know that my mom’s arms in death would be nothing like they were in life. I just knew I couldn’t live without her warm, comforting arms. I wanted to hold onto them forever.
I didn’t visit this memory again until we scattered my mom’s cremains in the Redwood Forest. It was my idea, making her final resting place a location she’d had on her bucket list since she was little. So I contacted the proper authorities, signed all the permits…
