Witty, blunt, right between the eyes, if need be

Never had much, but got what she needed...

Had MORE than most, but didn't know she had it !

Bessie...mischievous saint !

They say 'the rose blooms for the garden'

This aging lady of tender heart and kindness

Blossomed for those who could be authentic

And 'cut to the quick' if deceit or injustice

Would dare look her in the eye!

A stranger to false piety or pretense

An intimate companion to earthy spirituality

Tell it how it is...and if it wasn't, don't tell it !

I married her '[spiritual daughter', Liz

And had to account for myself from 'git-go'

How we showed her off in California...

'Our Mother', to hell with color !

How she welcomed me in Detroit for Thanksgiving

One year at a table of great blessing

She, a 'balm in Gilead', my pain melting in her love

She filled the emptiness when my mother died

She said, 'I want a grandchild', and our daughter obliged

She said, 'Now, you two take care of each other'

At the close of every phone-call, and we've gladly obeyed

Her giggle like a little girl; her incredible maturity and vision

She was down to earth and up to Heaven

She opened her heart and her soul

She lived on an edge of learning and growing

She shared her family, her friends and always made new ones

She was a rare blessing, this naughty, lovable, mischievous Saint.

wilbur i smith