Bonnie Waite. A woman with many titles. Mother, sister, wife, grandmother, great-grandmother, and Child of God. Who lived her life in a way that showed me it was possible to smile through the hard times. Marrying her sweetheart Glenn Waite, at a young age, they were able to create a beautiful family of 6. Three sons and a daughter. Raising them to be kind, generous examples of Christ-like love, and Bonnie was a perfect example.
To me she was great-grandma. A 5’ 2”, permed-haired, fireball of laughter. Who never went a day without her lipstick and always had her nails done. Growing up, she lived right down the road, directly across the street from my kindergarten. Luckily for me, that meant a lot of afternoons at her house. We’d bake cookies, play with toys, and watch old movies in her living room. She nurtured my love for baking, and always made it fun. We’d experiment with flavors and make messes just to end up sitting on the kitchen floor, covered in flour, eating cookie dough straight from the bowl. One thing my great-grandmother isn’t was predictable.
Painfully, due to health, safety, and convenience reasons, she and my great-grandpa moved to Saint George while I was in middle school. Our weekly visits abruptly ended and our only form of communication was either a few text messages or phone calls when she could figure out how to work her phone, or the two or three times a year my family would go up there to see them. My heart was shattered. I missed my best friend, my baking buddy, my cheerleader. Soon I found myself recreating scenarios from my childhood just to feel close to her. I would teach my younger cousins her recipes, or at least try to, most of the time we would find ourselves eating the batter, covered in flour, laughing at our failed attempt to make a treat. It took me many attempts to recreate those scenarios to finally realize what she was teaching me in the first place.
It was never about the treats, or the messes, however fun they may have been. It was about the joy in unusual things. Instead of being upset that I spilled flour on the counter or cracked the egg shell into the bowl, she would laugh and spill some more flour, or crack another egg this time with more shells in the bowl. I was never chastised for my mistakes but rather praised for trying in the first place. She knew much better than I did that life is far too serious as it is, and the last thing we need to do is get upset at things that do not need to be negative. Unfortunately, my biggest experience with that knowledge came from a much harder trial.
December 29, 2021. To everyone else in the world, it was just a typical Wednesday. The cold air of Las Vegas winter finally allowed for some relief from the heat of summer. Many children still had toys from Christmas to unbox, and leftover reindeer-shaped cookies to eat. I, however, had my best friend's funeral to attend. Except, I had a task.
You see, almost two years before her passing, during one of our few visits a year, I was handed three pieces of paper. Looking down on them I realized that it was sheet music for a song from the movie Forrest Gump. I gazed back up at her, expecting a grim frown as I knew what she was going to ask, but I was taken aback when I saw her beaming from ear to ear. She asked me to play this song at her funeral, and my great-grandmother was not a woman who took no for an answer.
I didn’t practice the song for almost a year, out of my own selfishness. I refused to believe that my great-grandmother would one day die. I finally tried, in October of 2021, for I knew her time was close. As my fingers danced across the keys, each stroke of a note felt like a step further and further away from her. I couldn’t play this song, it hurt to much.
Then it happened.
I received the phone call that my precious great-grandmother had passed away and arrangements for the funeral were being made, and I was being asked to play this song. I knew it was time, and I practiced and practiced until I could play the song with my eyes closed.
The day of her funeral came and I got up alone and walked to the piano. Where I sat down and started to play. Except someone was sitting beside me. It was her. She was helping me. She knew I could do it and was helping me execute the song exactly how she wanted it to be played. My fingers flowed along the keys, while my mind filled with twinkling memories of my beautiful great-grandma. I played the last note and went back to my seat. I have not played that song since.
Feather Theme was the song, and to many people, that is all it is. A song. However, to me, it is a memory. It is my own personal gift connection to her. She taught me that life is messy, it’s hard and sometimes the things we want aren’t the things we need. She was kind and never let anyone go home with an empty stomach. She was everyone's great-grandmother. She showed me the joy that comes from messes. The laughter that can come from tragedy. I will never live up to her legacy, and I would be doing her dishonor if I ever tried. However, the greatest thing that she ever taught me, is that love is not just a feeling. It’s an action. She taught me to love others and to love myself. In the words of my exquisite great-grandmother, “I love you, a bushel and a peck”.
Until we meet again.
Growing up we were poor. We couldn’t afford cable, were on food stamps and our form of entertainment was building mud cakes in the backyard. I didn’t have many material things but as a child I loved it. It didn’t bother me that I was poor in materialistic things because I was rich in my family. Luckily, my great-grandparents lived less than two miles down the road. They lived right across the road from my kindergarten and most days after school I would spend my afternoons at their house. I spent Saturday mornings at their house cleaning with my dad not knowing until years later that they were secretly paying my father to clean their house so that we could afford our necessities. They knew that my father wouldn’t accept money for free so they compromised and decided that we would clean the house since they were getting older and couldn’t do it as well as they wanted to, and in return, they would give my dad money.
Fast forward to 7th grade and my relationship with them took a turn. Being in their 80s now and after a few close calls, one where my great-grandpa had a stroke and fell, the family decided that it was time for them to be placed in a retirement home where they could be cared for. The only problem was that this home was in Saint George and we lived in Las Vegas. Within weeks they had been all packed up and moved off to their new home. Weekly visits turned into monthly if we were lucky and for almost 3 years our relationship suffered. Since they could depend on other people for basic necessities in this retirement home they both quickly deteriorated. It became harder to use the restrooms and to move around freely. Visiting them pained my heart because I knew that they were not only mourning the loss of their independence but also the loss of family ties.
Then came winter of 2021. My great-grandpa, a U.S. military veteran, father, grandfather, great-grandfather, brother, and child of God quickly fell ill. In only a matter of weeks, things took a turn for the worst before he peacefully passed, surrounded by all of his children. The funeral was held on December 4, 2021, and many tears were shed. Maybe not all out of grief, in fact, many were in gratitude for the life that this man lived. As we laid him to rest the sound of music filled the air as the grandchildren and great-grandchildren sang hymns to send him off.
Less than 25 days later great-grandma passed. Many in the family claimed it was because she was too stubborn to let great-grandpa enjoy Heaven without her for too long. That thought brought a smile to many of our grieving faces. Her funeral was held on December 29, 2021, and this time I was involved with the proceedings. You see, I have been blessed with the gift of music and I have become very proficient in playing the piano. I’ve learned it, played it, and have also been blessed enough to teach it. My great-grandmother knew this of course and when I would go visit her in Saint George I always made sure to play a new song for her. She had sent me the sheet music for the FeatherTheme from the movie Forrest Gump. As the funeral was being held I do not remember playing the song at all. All I have from that performance was a recording that I was given after I sat back down. I have not played that song since.
Going through some of the most crucial parts of my life without the man and woman who helped raise me is not something I ever thought I would have to do. Growing up I considered them to be superheroes and refused to believe that there would ever be a day when I would be on this Earth without them. In a way I am glad that they are no longer suffering the pains of this mortal life, but I cannot stop the pain of losing my mentors, my confidants, and my best friends. I mourn the loss of their presence at my high school graduation, my wedding, my children's birth, and all of the milestones that I have to experience without them. However, they were both God-fearing, family-loving people. With hearts of gold and spirits of kindness. I may miss their mortal presence on this Earth but they are in each of my family members. The legacy of love, kindness, humility, and compassion are things I cherish that they have left behind. I will never stop missing them, and the pain fades but never diminishes. Thankfully, I believe in Heaven, and although I am in no rush, I cannot wait to be back in their embrace once again.
“I love you, a bushel and a peck”
- Bonnie Waite (My great-grandmother)
April Misc....
Temple trip with whole Stake Presidency
