Reather G. Gosdin Terry

My mother, a gentle woman who's very essence was the definition of a beautiful classy lady. She was a woman of faith, that when confronted with fear and in the stillness of the night, when awake with the worries and pending issues of life weighing on her mind – it was her Lord that she cried out to for comfort, guidance and deliverance. With her quiet strength and unyielding determination she raised a family, built a home and looked well to the ways of her household. She wasn't a stranger to the valleys of life's toils and snares.

As a child, one could recall the smell of a homemade biscuits and the endless bountiful touches of affection. She basked in grace and beauty, not measured by possessed wealth but by rather her demonstration of class belonging to such ladies given to that time – that defied finances by their sheer self and unconquerable spirit.

I remember her store bought dress ordered from the Sears catalogue and her sweater draped elegantly over her shoulders sitting on the church pews on Sundays. She embodied femininity, extended kindness and was humble in her ways.

Her legacy to our children and their children will be the love that was mixed with gentleness and sensitivity that will forever linger in our hearts.

She was, indeed, a rare and beautiful rose. But, just like roses, she had to go. She had to say goodbye. And, with her very last breath, she left this world, that was the exact moment she heard the angels begin to sing. We can only imagine what her eyes could see – as she looked upon Jesus' face, His Majesty, and His love. And it was at that moment that a rare and beautiful rose – began to bloom in heaven.