The last year has been all about sending people on ahead of us. Our grandson, my brother, friend after friend, and now, our kid’s Mimi. She was named Charline and often in early life called Tiny. Our son, Jeremy, our oldest, named her Mimi. She has mostly been Mimi since the day he called her that for the first time.
Mimi was the Ultimate Pink Lady. She dressed in pink. She will be laid to rest in a soft pink casket. She was the epitome of a Southern lady.
That is, unless you crossed one of her kid’s or grandkids or great grandkids. Then, she became Mimi, the Mother Bear. You could get scratched.
Mimi would say anything. She often said things you just could not unhear and got away with it. She was never profane or lewd, but, well, the word bawdy come to mind, from time to time.
Mimi was a majorette (baton twirler), a great bowler and a hard throwing softball pitcher. You could get a hit off Mimi but if you stopped to admire your hit, you might get a softball in your ear the next time you came to bat. You did not mess with the Mimi.
Mimi actually cooked. The kids and grandkids and even the great grandkids would eat Mimi’s cooking without question. They would regularly let you know your cooking did not taste as good as Mimi’s cooking. They were right.
Mimi married a war hero. She lived 88 years, gave birth to three children and mothered a lot more. We will not see her kind again in this life time.
Mimi is in glory now. She did not live to see the twin girls our son Jonathan and his wife Stephanie are waiting for in June. She is the very first one of us to get to see the little boy we sent on ahead last year. I am a bit jealous of that fact, but he and his Mimi will have a fine time waiting on the rest of us.
Mimi is in Heaven now.