Amanda Murphy
Whenever someone passes, there seems to be a tendency to exaggerate their best qualities and dismiss the rest. Bonnie never pretended to be perfect, and she never expected that from anyone else either. (Lord knows, she has seen me struggle through some of my worst and weakest moments.) I’ve been trying to find the right words to say about Bonnie Murphy. They all seem to fall short. She was so much to so many, and so many knew her and loved her way before I did. When she was with you though, she was really with you. She never hesitated to extend a helping hand. When she answered the phone, it was such a joyful greeting. It always made me feel like she had been awaiting my call and was so happy to hear from me. Bonnie was a trusted confidant. We would talk sometimes for hours and “solve the world’s problems.” She had a way of normalizing concerns and extending grace. She believed in people, and she trusted that they had the answers to their questions inside of themselves. She was gentle about sharing her experiences, and she was careful not to be pushy or presumptuous, which is not always the norm from what I gather about other mother-in-law‘s. Bonnie was the beloved mother of three truly wonderful people. I lucked out and married her youngest, Jason. Yes, Bonnie was a quilter, gardener, a handyman, teacher, volunteer, watercolor painter, landscape, designer, and whatever else she set her mind to. She had a way of making things look easy. She was a hard worker and seemed to really enjoy working up a sweat. When she didn’t know how to do something, she wasn’t shy about learning how to do it, and even teaching you if you had an interest. Bonnie seemed to be good at everything she did. I don’t think that’s an exaggeration. She made the best apple pies, crust from scratch. She could walk out in the yard and cut a few flowers and make it look like an arrangement. She hung tablecloths for curtains and vines for valances. She was resourceful and complex without being complicated. She seemed to truly appreciate her family and simple pleasures, and she was easy about sharing those moments with others. I remember one time she told me she was just going to say yes whenever someone asked her to do something, and she did. She said yes to Life. She said yes to cross country meets, baseball, games, sleepovers, makeovers, get together‘s, home-improvement projects, water parks, camp-outs, picnics, hikes, retreats, and road trips. She stayed open to adventure, and many times that adventure was just building a fire in the backyard, roasting hotdogs and marshmallows with the people she loved. She opened her heart and her home. She was a safe haven. Bonnie was not one for grand and sweeping gestures; however, there was never any doubt how big she loved. Bonnie taught me so many things. Little lessons like how to cut a single strawberry or nectarine into a hundred tiny pieces, and you don’t have to have ALL (or any) of the ingredients to make some recipes. And sometimes you don’t even need a recipe. It’s okay to get creative. So much of what Bonnie taught I am still trying to learn. She was generous of heart. She didn’t get caught up in dramas— not her own or anyone else’s. She was wise, understanding and unassuming. I hope to channel her spirit of love and gentleness. I hate saying Bonnie was. Bonnie was a Sister, Mother, Nana, Mother-in-law, a Friend of mine and so many others. I already miss her dearly. My heart is with all of you out there loving and remembering her, and I trust she is with all of us. Yes, she left an “indelible imprint” on our hearts and our lives forever.
