I know the title is a little strange.
But really… I am too.
Let me explain the story before you judge me for all of that.
Momma and I had an amazing relationship. There was no stone left unturned in our conversations. To be honest, probably best most people never heard some of them!
I can almost feel my sister blushing as I’m saying that.
We were open and honest about everything. I mean, if you can’t talk to your momma without being judged, who can ya talk to?
Over the years, Mom and I talked about all kinds of health stuff. She was diabetic, and one of the things she worried about was neuropathy and eventually having body parts removed.
The day after she passed, my husband and I went to the mortuary to make arrangements. Momma wanted to be cremated, and I had to pick out an urn.
I didn’t want to split her up. She had been so afraid of that while she was alive.
So I called my stepdad and my sister to see if they wanted an urn.
My sister did, so I called her on video chat. She picked out a small urn, and I picked out the larger one that I would eventually set on the TV stand in Momma’s house.
After we made our final decisions, I looked up and said,
“Don’t worry, Momma. It’s just a left foot.”
It would be a little while before my sister could come down again. She had already just been there while Momma was in the hospital.
And I definitely was NOT going to trust shipping her foot 600 miles!
So here I was…
With a small urn containing Momma’s left foot.
The squirrel in my head said, “Hey…you know what would be great?”
Let’s take it on adventures while you have it!
And that’s what we did.
I started sending my sister pictures of the lunches and shopping trips I was taking Momma on.
I’m pretty sure she was shaking her head at me, but she acted like she thought it was fun.
Eventually, my sister came down to help clear out some of Momma’s things. I had always planned on sending the foot home with her.
When the time came, I handed it to her.
She looked at it.
Then she looked at me.
And in the softest voice, she said,
“You keep it. I’ll put her on a shelf, and you’ll take her on adventures.”
We both cried.
And, if I’m being completely honest, I was secretly thankful.
Sooooo…
A year later, this is where we are.
Momma’s Left Foot still watches me cry.
She listens to my problems.
She comes along for the occasional adventure.
And she probably has her hand on her forehead somewhere wondering what the hell I’m doing now.
But somehow, that little urn became more than an urn.
It became a way to keep Momma with me.
A little piece of her.
A little piece of us.
And maybe that’s why the name stuck.
Momma’s Left Foot.
