It’s not a new thing, Black Friday shopping with my mom.
This right of passage has been a part of our lives for as long as I knew what Black Friday was. There have been multiple iterations of our Black Friday tribe: grandmothers, sisters, a pile of women from my parents’ camping club, or, on occasion, just me and Mom. I think the camping club versions were my favorite. I would meet my parents in Tybee Island, Georgia to spend the Thanksgiving Holiday as their club took over the campground and served up an enormous feast filled with friends turned family.
If you haven’t discovered Tybee Island, you must. It sits just outside of Savannah, where the river meets the ocean. Tybee Island is such a quaint and contained spot that only a handful of visitors can enjoy it at a given time.
After a day of stuffing ourselves, the evening’s campfire discussion would turn to shopping as we women pored over the newspaper ads and mapped out our shopping plans for the following day. Black Friday started early, and often, we would be on the go by 5:00 am, ready(ish) to face a few cranky folks while enjoying the rush of hunting and gathering. At times, we would each take an assigned store in a Divide & Conquer operation that ensured everyone got exactly what they wanted from that morning melee.
When we returned to the campground, a few hours later and ready for breakfast, the men were most often found sitting around the embers of the previous night’s campfire, drinking coffee and wondering how their bank accounts fared. Once reenergized, many of us would head out again for additional rounds of shopping that leaned closer to a wander than a race.
It was bliss.
When I moved to Virginia and into instant-family mode, one of the things I missed most was that Black Friday bliss. Because of custody constraints, Thanksgiving was always spent hours away from my mom and the shopping tribe and with new relatives and traditions that were a bit uncomfortable for me. I did try to recreate that Black Friday bliss with my new tribe, but nothing ever really stuck. If I had a nickel for every time I’d enthusiastically asked to be included in the shopping pack that included my husband’s aunts or cousins, well, I’d have had enough to treat them all to lunch afterward.
The biggest gut punch? One year, I asked my mother-in-law to pair up with me so that we could tackle Black Friday together like my mom and I had done in years past. I even threw in a sure-fire incentive (“We can get started on the kids’ Christmas lists!”) in a desperate grab to create a shared moment. She declined the offer, saying she didn’t really need to do any more shopping.
It was, therefore, super awkward when we ran into each other in the long line at Kohl’s as we stood side-by-side with the hundreds of other Doorbuster Deals shoppers. There was a bit of joy in listening to her long and stuttered explanation.
This year, I did go Black Friday shopping again and, this time, with my Mom in tow. Well, in pocket, rather.
Did you know that, when you lose a loved one, you can request split portions of their remains? Funeral homes are happy to split remains into as many urns as requested. My portion is perfectly pocket-sized. This only works in the case of cremations, of course.
It’s not the first time I’ve taken my Mom shopping since she died, tucking her tiny urn into a pocket for a day out. It sounds batshit crazy, I know, but there is something very cathartic about it. The first time I took Mom out was when our town finally opened a TJ Maxx–a store that she and I had probably spent more time in than any other. I knew Mom would have been thrilled to learn that we were finally getting a local store and that she would have been thrilled to explore it with me.
When the TJ Maxx did open, my friend, Karen, and I trudged through the crowd, enjoying the smell of a brand new, favorite place. I didn’t tell Karen that I’d brought Mom along until we were making our way back to the car. Her eyes only bugged out for a split second before she busted out laughing.
A few days ago, Karen and I hit the road again, this time for Black Friday shopping. This time, I told Karen that Mom was joining us before we headed toward the highway. Our tiny passenger provided a lot of entertainment throughout the adventure.
Me: I really should put this urn in a Ziploc. Can you imagine if it came unscrewed in my pocket? Karen: Well, that wouldn’t be so bad – then there’d be a little of her here (at Michael’s) and there (at Target). She’d probably love that.
Karen: Should we go anywhere else, or do you think your Mom’s tired?
Me: Oh shit! For a second there, I thought I’d lost the urn! (It was still in my pocket) Can you imagine that phone call to Lost & Found?
I don’t know if I should be institutionalized or applauded, but shopping with Mom has brought a surprise joy back into a life that is mostly spent missing her. My counselor says it’s not that weird, but…really? Finding ways to heal after such a loss has been one of the biggest challenges of my mom’s death. Part of me doesn’t want to heal at all, as there is still comfort in the tears, though they come less frequently. Part of me knows that my mom would think that lingering tears are ridiculous.
All of me knows that Mom would think taking her out shopping, on occasion, is absolutely hilarious.
Which is why I’ll probably do it again next year.