My very first memories of you were when your mother was pregnant with you; I had to be about 4. She was the first pregnant lady I had ever been around and I remember being very excited that a little baby was coming. Once, Aunt Julie said she was going to go into her room to change and I was so upset because I thought if she changed her shirt that you would fall out and get hurt. Then when she came back into the room after changing I was so amazed to find you were still in there, still safe and sound.
You were a huge part of the greatest summer of my life, the summer of 92, when we spent over a month at Grandma's house in Missouri. We were two California girls in the country, experiencing the life our mothers had grown up in. We explored the acres of land; we found a dried creek in the middle of the little forest and made forts, or, at least it seemed like a forest to us. We loved putting coins on the rail road tracks to see if we could get a perfectly flatten coin, but then we stopped out of fear that we would derail a train. I remember the cows were so sweet and we made friends with a few of them. I'll never forget the day when two mother cows thought we were too close to their baby calves and they started charging at us and I had to hop over a barbed wire fence and pick you up to throw you over. I don't think I'd ever ran or acted so fast in my life. After that I vowed to never eat a cow again, and I never did.
During the days we would swim in creeks, lakes, and go to the little town's public pool. Our cousin's Jessica and Jarron would come to hang out with us too. One of the games we would play was tag on top of huge rolled hay stacks; our rule was that if you would fall then that meant you would get bit by a snake, yikes! Our nights were filled with bon fires, smores and trying to catch lightning bugs.
I felt like that was my last summer as a kid. Even as we grew up we always remained close throughout the years. I watched you grow into a beautiful women. Even though there was a five year difference between us I always felt like we were the same age. You were always very mature and wise beyond your years. I always admired how strong you were, and how you were never afraid to speak your mind. We would laugh, and laugh for hours. There are so many inside jokes that we shared, and I'm sad we will never laugh at them again. I'll still always remember them, though.
What hurts me the most, and makes my heart ache, is knowing that you and Grandma are gone. When she was passing it was a very emotional time for our family, even though the family tried to be strong and repress it. You and I had one another to grieve and cry with. She had been a big part of our lives, and I can still remember how you could do the best impersonation of her raspy voice.
The last time we saw Grandma, when she was on her death bed, we both knew we would never see her again. We got in bed with her and stroked her arms and hair. We told her how much we loved her and how important she had been to us. She couldn't open her eyes or talk, but I know she heard everything. Both of you are gone now, and I can't breath when I think about it.
I wish I could talk to you one last time. I wish I knew the last time we talked on the phone would be our last. I wish I could hear your voice. I can still hear it loud and clear, and hear your laugh. I can still remember your voice from when you were a little kid. There are so many memories that we could have shared, it's not fair to you or us. I wish I could have helped you, my little Mare Bear. I wish I could have taken the pain away from you. My dearest cousin, Maren, I will always hold a special place for you in my heart, and never forget our precious memories. I love you, so much. Until we meet again....
