She danced down the stairs to music — always singing, always smiling.
Her mornings began not with complaints, but by helping her little brother get ready — just one of the many quiet ways she gave love.
She adored baking brownies with her grandma, building Lego cities, writing plays, and pretending to be a teacher.
She played field hockey, loved acting, and *always* made space for others.
Even in second grade, Margaret had a remarkable sense of empathy — she could feel when someone was left out… and simply wouldn’t let them stay that way.
This was her first summer at Camp Mystic.
She was thrilled. She was brave. She was ready.
And then… the flood came.
On July 4th, the river surged — fast, cruel, unstoppable.
Margaret was swept away.
Her body was found days later.
Now, her parents live in a silence that no parent should ever know.
A bedroom that won’t echo with laughter.
A chair that will remain empty at dinner.
A tiny voice they’ll never hear again.
But Margaret’s light — it was too bright to vanish.
It lives on in every heart she touched, every act of kindness she inspired, and in the memories of all who loved her.
Rest gently, Margaret. You were truly one of a kind.
Margaret would bounce out of bed each morning, her outfit already laid out, ready to start the day with joy.
