She was, quite literally, as country as they come.
A complete redneck, and proud to call herself a redneck. She wore blue jeans and red cowboy boots every chance she got and rode her horses on any given day. She hated the color pink and hated to be degraded simply because she was a woman. She wanted the world to know her strength.
If she loved you, she would do anything for you: from giving you the shirt right off her back to "kicking someone's ass" for hurting you. If she didn't like you, she let you know it: LOUDLY. She couldn't turn away from someone in need. She was a woman who didn't fear picking up total strangers walking down the side of the road in the rain to take them wherever they needed to go.
She was full of raw emotion from anger to sadness to love. Her emotions had no bounds, and there was no hiding her emotions. She cried tears at her desk for customers that had heartbreak. She paced the parking lot, waving her hands in the hair yelling up to Jesus when she was frustrated. She hugged as hard as she could. She laughed with her entire soul. Her emotions were infectious.
We laughed together every day for over two years. We had breakfast together every morning for over two years. She loved my husband, and thought he was "one sexy man" and grabbed his rear end every time she saw him. Jason described her as "the redneck aunt everyone wants to sit beside at Christmas." She attended our wedding and cried tears of joy.
When it came time for me to move on to another job, we laughed together through text messaging and a few lunches. She shrieked of pure excitement when I told her that I was expecting. She prayed with my mother, and called my mother consistently throughout my pregnancy and heart surgeries. She told me at 41 weeks pregnant not to listen to anyone but her because I would never be "bigger than no popcorn fart." She showed up at the hospital the morning after Ethan was born. She couldn't wait to take him horseback riding for the first time.
When I lost my job, she asked me who I wanted to be "kicked in the ass." When they fought my unemployment, she started mouthing right there in the office, not concerned with the customers across the hall. When my old boss needed someone to fill in while he was between full time employees, she called me. When the time came for me to look for a job urgently, she called everyone she knew.
After a breast cancer scare in late 2011, she called my Mom for support and comfort. She leaned on her family and friends, and everyone she knew cried tears of joy to find out the results were negative.
A woman that knew that there were no boundaries to her blessings. A woman, no matter how she felt, would answer the question "how are you" with: "always doing better than I deserve, so I guess I can brag about it a little bit." A woman that made sure to tell everyone what God had done in her life. A woman that refused to let anyone but God influence the way she lived. A woman who wasn't afraid to say or do something completely ridiculous only to laugh at herself 5 minutes later.
I've never met someone that truly lived for every single moment the way she did. Without a doubt, I know that her 56 years were cut too short, but every moment of her 56 years were full of complete life. She made sure of it.
She was a woman who taught me to show my love more than what I was showing, that it was ok to laugh at myself, and not to be afraid to help a stranger. She was one friend that I never questioned how much she cared about me, and she never questioned how much I loved her in return. She loved me, she loved my husband, she loved my little boy. We all adored her.
Heaven got a little more "honkey-tonk" on Friday evening, and my heart broke. I have peace knowing that she is much happier in heaven that she ever could be here on earth, but I'm so sad for myself and all of her other friends and family. I'm so thankful for the 5 years of friendship I was blessed with, but it hurts to know that I won't get to hear a "Hi Darlin'!" or a "Well piss on that shit" for quite a while.
I'm really going to miss you, Bonnie Mae. Your lessons and funny stories will live on forever, because I plan to share them here every once in a while. You always said that your silly videos needed to be posted "on that U-Tube thangy" so that you could at least make some money off being so silly. I'm sorry you never got your reality show, but I can promise you that the world that knew you was truly blessed with your contagious laughter. I could not ask to have worked with a better woman, or to have made a better friend. Thank you for always loving me just as unconditionally as my family does. You certainly will never be forgotten.