Mrs. B

B is for beautiful.

That’s how Auntie Hedy was called by everyone in our household and in the household of my late mother-in-law (Amah of my boys).  Just one look at her, and you’d know why.

She was a frequent visitor of Amah because they were BFFs, the term kids use today.  I always knew when she was around because Ate Vi, our long-time househelp, would squeal in an excited voice, “Mrs. B is at Amah’s!”

She always brought along yummy dishes, which she prepared herself, and would stay for hours so she and Amah could chat about . . . well, I only understand some words of Chinese so I never really knew why they laughed and talked non-stop.  

When Amah died ten years ago, Mrs. B was in our home, seeing to every detail. She helped with the funeral arrangements and always, she had food to feed everyone. 

Just last year in the US, she went the way of Amah. We could not be with her on her last days as she was for my mom-in-law, so Tony and I tried to make up for it (even if no gesture could ever make up for all she’d done for her BFF and what we had not done for her) in one small way.  

We visited her resting place.   

It was in a beautiful temple up the top of a hill, where one could feel through the breeze the presence of our Creator while viewing the magnificence of many parts of California.

At her grave site, I silently thanked the Lord for the long life he gave Mrs. B, and for sharing her with us.

Yes, Auntie Hedy not only stood for Mrs. B., but for Bountiful . . . bountiful grace unselfishly blown in from the heavens.