This wonderful woman died today, at home. It sounds like she just closed her eyes and gently went to God.

Bettie and my uncle Charlie took my brother (8) and me (4) in for several months when our parents were in a terrible motorcycle accident. It killed our dad instantly and left our mom with many injuries and a long hospitalization and recovery. As our family changed, so did theirs. Our cousin, Mark, suddenly had to share his parents' and our grandparents' time and attention. As an adult, I have often thought about what it took for all of them to do that.

When we lived in Bluffton, IN with them, my time was split between Charlie and Bettie's and my grandparents, Helen and Ron Adams (my dad's and Charlie's parents). Bettie was an elementary school teacher, working with kids with disabilities and learning problems. In addition she worked in the photography studio they owned. Seeing Bettie's classroom was so exciting for me, a little girl who had not yet been to school. There were toys, books, interesting things to look at on the boards and walls, and a chalkboard. At the studio, I got to see the cameras and the backdrops and I especially loved looking at all of the display pictures, framed and beautiful in the lobby area and the front window. Imagining what each family was like, I made up stories to go with the faces and the relationships I saw there.

Some of my distinct memories from that time: having cheese fondue with those big hunks of bread, getting tucked into bed "mummy style" by Charlie and then trying not to loosen those covers while I fell asleep, the way Bettie cut my french toast, spray painting their house (in my little 4 year old mind I guess I thought that big wall was a canvas) and only getting talked to about it but not really feeling in trouble.

Later when we were re-established with our mom in Union Grove, we always visited Bluffton in the summer. Sometimes Mom went but some summers it was Jeff and me, going by plane, piloted by Charlie. I recall one time in particular that we landed and I puked all over the place in a little airport bathroom. Bettie cleaned me up and cleaned the bathroom, never complaining or making a big deal out of it. We usually travelled by car, and Bettie was the best field trip planner. She took us to amusement parks in Ohio, to Springfield, IL to see Abraham Lincoln's home and to numerous places in Indiana. She often took us to the Amish community of Berne where there were so many people with horses and buggies and that was a thrill. We also went once to the home of Gene Stratton Porter who was an Indiana native and a writer and naturalist. I can still see the inside of that home in my memory. There were so many many trips like that...

Bettie and Charlie later divorced, and this was a very hard time for her. In the years since then, she had a different home in Bluffton and I visited several times after I was an adult. She would take me and her dog (I am sorry I cannot remember his name!) to state parks to take walks and to talk. Bettie was a major dog lover. Her dog was her friend and companion, going on car trips with her and pretty much being right by her side whenever possible.

Bettie was a lover of culture, seeing plays and musical performances as often as she could. She was a reader, and we sometimes shared books and conversations about them. She learned about dreams and what they meant. She was a very wise person, and dignified, with a healthy sense of humor, one that never depended on someone else's embarrassment. Her home was full of interesting things and artwork that meant something--painted by someone she knew or representing a place she'd been.

Bettie had plans to retire in Florida, near Mark and his wife Jennifer. She and her brother drove the moving truck with all her things from northern Indiana to Fort Lauderdale and arrived on the day that her first grandchild, Jacob, was born. The timing was probably not just a coincidence; she was so in love with him from the start. In addition to helping take care of Jacob and later her second grandson, Jason, and watching them grow, Bettie set up her life there, making a nice home for herself, studying the maps so she could see what that area had to offer, joining her church and getting involved.

My mom started an annual spring break trip every year, and the two of them did all kinds of touring and sightseeing, with each day beginning with coffee and conversation. One year, my girls and I were included in that trip, and we had a great time, again with Bettie as our tour guide. Every minute was as full as we wanted it to be and we were treated like special guests the whole time.

Just a few weeks ago, I went to Florida again, along with my mom and my aunt Judy. The reason this time was not to be tourists but to be with Bettie in whatever way she needed. Her cancer diagnosis came in July and the chemotherapy was hard on her. The decision to start hospice care was a difficult one for her. None of this made sense. You don't go to the doctor with a cough and come out with metastatic cancer.

Before our trip, Bettie had asked my mom to bring an apple. She wanted an apple from Wisconsin. She missed the seasons and this was a simple request. My mom went to a nearby orchard and picked two apples for Bettie, packed them safely in her carry on bag, and presented them to her on our first day with her. This is the surprising and completely heartwarming part---Bettie took them in her hands and put them to her nose, breathing in deeply, and then with a voice that cracked with tears, said, "Oh, I want to go home..."

Now you are home, Bettie. May you rest in peace.