Eulogy for Beatrice Violet Bodfish, written and delivered by her daughter Mary during the memorial service at St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, Ontario, Canada on January 10, 2011.

I speak on behalf of my brother Ted and I, and our whole family, to thank you all for coming to honour the life of our mother Beatrice Violet Bodfish. We have each known her in many and varied circumstances and activities through her long and vibrant life. There was much energy and determination and an abundance of love in this little lady that we called mom, grandma, aunt, sister and friend.

She grew up as the youngest of six and was an unexpected bonus to her parents. They and her siblings were a family that supported each other through the years of the depression and other life stresses. And mom loved to recount the words of her own father that “ good things come in small packages”. Mom has always had a heart of care and concern for others. She also had a commitment to St. Paul’s, which she has attended faithfully since her childhood. She married our father here at the Cathedral and their active involvement in various ways was an example of service for us all.

Mom and Dad shared in parenting three children and demonstrated a strong faith and care for others with many strangers and friends often present at mealtimes. Mom was always very organized and hosted many large family gatherings in our small home. She returned to paid employment once we were all into school full time and they saved her earnings for our education fund. Once we were approaching independence they developed a new interest and became actively involved in the square dance world. This was more than a good exercise program and led them to numerous additional friendships. They began to travel to many places around the world and we still have slide pictures and address books to prove it. Plus a file with a great number of mom’s famous poems about each trip.

Mom even wrote a few poems about other life events and I would like to read one of those to you now: It was written in 1978 - the same year that her first grandchild was born - and is titled: “Reminiscence of a Stay in Hospital”

You gulp and you swallow, feel a little despair,
When the doctor informs you “go in for repair.
Your tail pipe is dragging, your water tank’s low,
It’s time for a tune up – to the hospital you must go.”

The date is set, the news is spread,
Your first instructions – “Get into bed.”
A nurse comes by with a list so long,
What have you had, and if not, what went wrong.

The intern, too, made me sing my song,
The questions similar and just on and on.
“Are you allergic?” “Let’s take a blood test.”
“What are your symptoms?” “Did you expect to get a rest?”

Better have a bath before you go to bed,
That’s half way down the hall – you heard what I said?”
The next morning early – did I hear right?
“Better have a bath.” It didn’t count last night.

The cart is here but won’t fit in the room,
I climb up like a monkey for a ride to my doom.
The nurse in the operating room seems to be smiling with glee –
Another victim to silence – slow down this busy Bea.

Here comes the anaesthetist. He offers sweet dreams,
But somehow my mind is blank – no entertainment for me it seems.
Upon awakening and looking around,
Something new has been added, two new friends I have found.

One pole for intravenous – drip, drip coming in –
The other for – well you know – drip, drip to the ground.
One friend lasts two days. I was glad to see it go.
The other one lasts the duration – a most formidable foe.

Next come the needles – first left and then right,
Not just in the daytime but on in the night.
Here comes that nurse again – “Better take a bath.”
At 6:30 each morning it seemed a regular chant.

The bright spots of each day, when the mail or visitors came,
Gave me many warm memories – Too many to name,
But one I must mention – it stands out in my mind-
One visitor was set to stay – you might say, “How kind.”

But it wasn’t me he hoped to mind
Alex liked my cute nurses. He was hard to unwind.
Hopefully soon we’ll be round and square dancing,
But friends, I must give you some caution:

If conversation lags between tips, I might try to audition –
“Did I ever tell you about my operation?”

Thankfully mom was not one to dwell on her aches and pains. She coped with life by finding the good in each person and each situation. It was devastating for her when our younger brother Bill was diagnosed at this time two years ago with cancer and died in the early morning hours of her 88th birthday. She continued to grieve in her own ways but still kept herself invested in others. She always delighted in her grandchildren, was proud of their accomplishments and was very excited about being a great grandmother.

Mom was also a wonderful visitor and found meaning in going to see others not as mobile or healthy as she was. She lived her life for others and never wanted credit for anything she did. She had a difficult time being told to lie still in the hospital. Her death was calm and peaceful - with Ted and I privileged to be present with her.

Mom had been planning to be back helping with jam making and to return to the next square dance season. We can see her now - back with her life partner: our dad Charlie - as they line up for the next tip. And I think that maybe our brother Bill is on the sidelines cheering them on. Thank you Heavenly Father for giving us such a great mom.