On Sunday, January 27th, Pastor Jenness presided over the funeral of a former parishioner from a previous appointment, 97-year-old Bessie Howard, of Rockingham. What follows are his notes from the funeral of this dear, saintly woman:On June 7th, 2001 Grady Howard, Bessie's beloved husband, passed away. Moments prior to his homegoing, her daughter-in-law, Bertie, her son Jerry’s wife, thought I was a paramedic when I knocked on the door and she answered it, and she proclaimed, "Thank goodness you're here!" She ushered me into the room, and I was with Grady, holding his and Bessie's hands as he passed...
Although she missed him deeply, Bessie lived on for almost 7 more years. The last time I saw her, she gave me a bag of pecans in a burlap sack, and
I recall that, when I walked into her sitting room, I was surprised to see photos of me and my family still sit atop her television set.
Bessie grew up in a 3-room house, loaded with people. Grady worked in the textile mill; she did, too, which is where they met.They were married on April 1st, 1939. Grady was almost 30, and she was just a little bit younger. Their eldest son, Jerry, was born in the family home on Roberdell Road. Their youngest son, Dale, was born in the hospital.
Bessie stopped working when Jerry was a baby and, when Dale was in the 10th grade, she went back to work. She worked in the hospital cafeteria for a time, and then at JC PENNY in Rockingham.
Growing up, Jerry and Dale remember money being tight, but they always had fried chicken on Sundays. Bessie almost always seemed to end up eating the back bone and the neck, or the wing, because – she said – the boys needed to eat – she always made sure her family went first. She was truly a living embodiment of the Virtuous Woman described in Scripture. Jerry says he couldn’t see what was happening when he was a boy, but he does now…
Pleasant memories of Bessie include a time when Jerry was a baby, and she and the baby, and Grady, went boat-riding, and they got hung up on a stump for hours. She never again went on a boat on Roberdell pond.
At the textile mill, Grady worked the second shift, and he’d talk with the fellows afterward. Then he'd get a nickel Coca Cola out of the ice box with ice slivers on it, and rush home to give it to Bessie. In the summer, she loved it. Simple things brought her great pleasure.
Bessie played the piano at Roberdell United Methodust Church at one point in time; she was a member there for many years.
When they were much younger, Grady taught her to shoot a shotgun, and she and he used to love to work in the garden, growing okra and tomatoes, etc.
At Christmastime, the family remember meeting at their Grandma Jenny’s House. Luke 2 – the Christmas Story – would be read, and her sister would play the piano as the family sang, and everyone would exchange presents on Christmas Eve.
When the family would have big meals together, they’d have oyster stew, and Bessie’s chocolate pie. The family recall that she was an excellent cook, from a long line of cooks – all of these cooks would teach Bessie's niece, Deborah, things to pass down. Deborah asked her aunt for instructions up until the very end.
Chocolate Pie was her specialty, along with gravy and biscuits. Bessie once won a watch years ago, guessing the mystery ingredient of a recipe puzzle.
Deborah’s mom, Bessie's sister, passed away in 1994, and Bessie's other sister passed away in 1996, so Bessie was a mother figure for Deborah.
Bessie sewed, her sons recall, and claimed that, in their growing up years, “you didn’t get a new pair of blue jean - you got a new patch."
Bessie never fussed or complained, although Grady often did, with comments like, "You already wore out a pair of shoes, boy?" – usually such comments were directed at youngest son, Dale, who always got his clothes second-hand.
Her sons recall that Bessie was handy with a switch, and say they didn’t have enough sense to keep their hedges cut. They say she’d get a switch in a minute, or make the boys go cut their own, saying, "If you bring back something too small, you’re going right back down there and gettin' another one.”
Bessie didn’t hesitate to ground her boys when they were young, but she didn’t really like to punish her grandson, Dale, Jr. – she’d try to get Jerry to do it for her. She dearly loved Dale, Jr., and her great-grandchildren. There’s a picture of her shooting a BB gun on her back porch back in August 2007, when she said, “I reckon I’d like to shoot that BB Gun.”
Dale Jr. remembers a comical instance where Bessie noticed a spot in the floor next to the table, she bent down and tried to wipe it up, not knowing it was caused by the shadow of a flyswatter. He moved it, and she reacted, but only after she continued her attempt to keep cleaning. When he was small, he remembers climbing on top of the fridge while playing hide and seek with her. She never spotted him, so he climbed on down after revealing his location to her.
At one point in time a close friend, Dot Bicknell, would give her stuffed animals on a monthly basis during visits, and Bessie would give them to the grandchildren. They still have them.
Bessie was quiet – but could say a lot with just a glance; she was graceful, sweet, and as constant as the morning star.
Her funeral wishes expressed her gracious spirit: “For flowers – pink ones, if you can, but others will be alright…”
She accepted Christ so long ago no one remembers exactly when, and she was baptized around that same time, but it was well known that she loved the Lord. Her sons recall that she wouldn’t let them go anywhere on Sunday if they didn’t go to church that morning.
She suffered from macular degeneration at the end of her life; she was reduced to listening to the Bible via DVD, and now she can see wonders we can’t begin to fathom.
“I’m not afraid to die,” she said back in August, to Dale, Jr.'s wife. “I know where I’m going.”
At the end of the letter detailing her funeral wishes, she wrote: “Jerry, do not worry about me – you have looked after me as your dad wanted you to do.
“I promised Dad to meet in Heaven. Jerry, you, Dale, meet us there, too, I hope, and your family. Please don’t cry about me. I am better off with the Lord.”
Thanks be unto God for a life well lived.
