The Original Bad Girl: My BFF

My task today is to write the funeral program for my BFF. As much as I love writing, and the many things that she and I shared, it seems that the words should just pour forth. Instead, they are all stuck in my brain. Locked in a closet that the key no longer fits.

I see her face. I hear her talking. I know what she would be saying, and what she would want me to write. I know all of these things, and yet, I am unable to put any of them on paper. In my brain, I have prepared the words that I want to speak at her memorial service, but I am afraid that they too are locked away in that closet that the key will not fit.

The original bad girl, my BFF, was bold and daring. She spoke her mind. She cared about everybody, but did not take no jive from anyone. She loved hard, and danced in the sun. Nothing stole her joy, not even her illness. Madonna could have, and probably did learn a few things from my BFF. As she often said, "she lived life!" At 68, she had already done what most people only dream of, and enjoyed every moment of it.

Where do you start writing about someone who spent the first half of her life exploring all of the honey life could afford, and the last half enjoying and remembering the times that she had, but now has found and loved the Lord with all of her soul? Just where do you start? How much do you tell, and how much do you just keep for yourself because the original bad girl, my BFF isn't here for you to consult with as you struggle for words? The closet is locked, and the key just won't fit.

I hear her words as clear as day, "Linda, you are the Philadelphia lawyer, and you're the one always saying that I don't have any finesse!" "Put something on the damn paper, and don't write no mess!" "You know I tell it like it is, and that's how I've always been." So, you pretty it up, but just don't write no lies about me." "I had my fun. I did things, I probably should not have done, but hey, it is what is!" I'm done." Seems like just words, but those words packed in a lifetime. There was no mincing words with the original bad girl, my BFF!

As bold as she was, her real life was private. She hurt inside from the loss of her mother and farther at a very young age. She cried often about the loss of her only brother, and she clung to her only sister for dear life. Young and foolish she made lots of mistakes, and prayed for forgiveness every single day. She held her friends close, and her enemies closer for trust was hard for her. She could always see through people, and could spot the enemy long before the enemy spotted her. If she loved you, you could never do any wrong. When your friendship hurt her, she would suck it up, and move on. On the other hand, if you earned her despise you did not have to wait to find out. She was in your face and ready to back it up. The original bad girl, my BFF was loyal and very protective.

Feisty. Flashy green eyes (later turned blue or blue green when angry). Sexy to the bone! Killer instinct. No nonsense. Strictly business. The fun of the party. Hot dresser. She could make even a napkin could look good on her. Slick talking. Worldly. Yet, in the end, she changed into a mother, a grandmother, and a great grandmother. She found her true calling, and she draped it around her like a pair of good ole worn shoes that you just can’t throw away because they’ll be good for just one more day. How do you find words to describe and say goodbye to someone like this. No wonder the words are locked up in my closet, and the key will no longer fit.

So, I will close by saying, if you met her and you connected, you will never forget her whether you loved her back or just wanted to strangle her. She had that effect on everyone. There was a song written many years ago that said TO KNOW HER IS TO LOVE HER, AND I DO! The Original Bad Girl, THROUGH THICK AND THIN MY BEST FRIEND FOREVER!

Rest well Yvette R. Mills
Sunrise: December 5, 1946
Sunset: May 19, 2015