Betty Catherine Smith

19th December 1926 – 1st January 2018

A mother

This creature, a woman of incredible beauty,
Whose love and devotion exceeds her duty
At times her deeds often went unseen
And yet you cannot miss where she has been
Her love goes far beyond the DNA bond
She is a place where you belong
She is graceful in her complexities
With beauty in her imperfection
Each God-created part is just right
Placed to shape and embrace you tight
Her hands, feminine yet strong
Hands that cleaned up messes, knitted jumpers and played
Hands that cradled, created and that were there to support
Hands that tended to wounds of battles we had fought
Hers were the hands that wiped away tears
Hers are the hands that helped mould our years
Her eyes held the power to see the unseen
Who we were, who we are and who we will be
Her love instilled the skill to leap mountains and cross seas
And allowed her offspring the courage to roam free
And just like her, to take risks and try something new
And Although her words of affection were few
Her love was shown in the things that she could do
Her character, her humour and witt sometimes meant we took a direct hit
But even as the years clouded her mind in a shroud
Proud of the life she had lived
proud of her boys whom she counted herself fortunate to have had
And Proud of the wives of each of her sons
And would often say they had chosen good ones
Proud of the generations that after her came
Our lives without her will not be the same
And even though without her our hearts with be sad
We are grateful for the time with her that we had.