I'm bringing this up because we buried her today. My beautiful Grandma Mary went to be with Jesus and I have spent the last few days reminiscing on such a beautiful lady. I can still feel the warm slate on my feet as we climbed down to the lake. The slight fishy, muddy smell of the water and the buzz of the chattering kids; the taste of freshly churned vanilla ice cream with strawberries is on the tip of my tongue. I will never forget tent city and Grandma Mary marching all of us kids down to the lake to "bathe." She taught us to play dominoes. Her words always guided us gently in the right direction. I will forever love peanut butter on apples and treasure the quilt she made me that now adorns my daughters bed. My favorite afghan was made by her as well. I can see her smile without even closing my eyes and hear her voice with little effort. Every summer, she opened her home only to the girls; no boys allowed. Girl's week was a highlight of my summer. I'm sure we looked so silly wearing those ponchos but we sure didn't mind. Climbing Sugar Loaf Mountain is something I can't wait to share with my own children.
As I drove to Clinton today, flashes of memory popped up readily making me smile, causing giggles and bringing up tears. Mourning is a part of losing a loved one but I know that I will see her again, in heaven.