This is the memory that kept coming back to me while she was in the hospital and during her funeral.
Camp Mimi was an annual, much anticipated event for Margaret and I growing up. I can remember my mom and dad driving and meeting them halfway between Bossier and Texarkana. From there I would be going home with Mimi and Papa for the week. For a whole week. All by myself. I felt so special. So grown up. Mimi would plan the entire week around us. There were dinners out, shopping sprees, trips to the park, movie night and the list goes one. It was awesome. But now being older, and supposedly wiser, I know what a truly amazing gift it was to have grandparents that were so willing and able to be a part of our lives. Awesome doesn't even begin to describe it. Sitting at her service yesterday I was reminded of those summers. Reminded of her immense love for my family and for me. What I wouldn't give for another week at Camp Mimi. To go back to that age when life was so carefree and wonderful. To be loading into her car with my suitcase and pillow headed to her house, oblivious to the realities of adulthood and saying goodbye.
I am grateful for the time I had with her and for the many memories that I can continue to carry with me until I see her again.