Given at Bonnie’s Celebration of Life, September 28th, 2025
My name is Mollie Mae, and I am Bonnie’s niece. I am a reverend (an
irreverent one!), a chaplain, and a clinical crisis counselor on our suicide
crisis lines. Five years ago when I left the home of my abusive parents with
my car packed with books, my dog, and a handful of essentials, my Aunt
Bono was the first of my family to reach out with love and acceptance
from both her and Aunt Mary. While we weren’t able to fulfill our dreams of
visits and trips together due to the covid landscape and our own chronic
conditions, we bonded deeply over the phone and sharing our lives over
the internet. I still reach for the phone thinking “I gotta tell Aunt Bonnie
this!”.
I have scoured poetry, devoured books, and listened to lyricists that
put proper words to grief and loss. But there’s no words for Aunt Bono no
longer being on the other side of the line in her lounge chair. No one calls
me and says “Hi cutie!”, and sadly, no one butt-dials me anymore, either.
The grief is deep, because the gift she gave was vast. As our mutually
beloved Dolly Parton once said, “laughter through tears is my favorite
emotion.” And as Sally Field said in the same film, “I wanna know why!”
There’s a hole in the my world without her here.
We shared a love for terriers, Steel Magnolias, true crime documentaries,
weekend phone calls, and Winninger family lore. She taught me all about
my namesake Grandma Mollie, and we planned for her to be the flower girl
at my wedding one day. We drove the same exact car, both had ADHD,
and were notoriously late when it came to sending things in the post. She
generously shared her life and loves with me. She was my champion,
confidant, and the family member who loved me most. I will miss her
humor, her guidance, and her deep compassion for the world and her
constellation of loved ones. For all intents and purposes, she should have
been my mom because we were kindred spirits in the truest sense. She taught me what having a best friend really means- what it means to have
community, acceptance, belonging- while living in your authenticity.
I’d like to provide a blessing for those gathered here that loved Bonnie as
fiercely as I did. Aunt Bono was a bit of a recovering Catholic, but deeply
spiritual, and asked me before she died to do something to honor her
spiritually. I was able to record final prayers for her and while I’ve had the
privilege to do many things as a reverend, there is no greater privilege than
fulfilling someone’s final wishes, not to mention your best friend.
A blessing for Bonnie and those that loved her:
Blessed is the lesbian who was called to show care,
Blessed is the friend who sits vigil in a hard hospital chair.
Blessed is the diet soda pop,
the kindred spirits,
and the 3am messages over the laptop.
God bless the storytellers,
the cackles through tears,
the funeral hams, and inside jokes through the years.
God bless us here, kith and kin.
God go before us, God go after us.
God meet us at the door.
God be beside us, God be within us,
Ancestors hold us, and answer our call.
Adapted and inspired by Mark Aguhar’s “Hymns to My Heavenly Brown
Body”.
Should anyone be interested in music to accompany this little liturgy, this
page has short links to a playlist inspired by Bonnie. There is a version
both for Spotify and Apple Music, depending on what you use.
Go with grace and peace- you are beloved.
Moxie 