Kathy's Eulogy

So a daily customer of Flying M passed away last week, and since I was unable to make it to the funeral, I figured I should at the very least share some of my memories of her. I don't even know her full name, but just knew her as Kathy, the elder lady who came in every night for a small cup of coffee and a cookie. I once thought of her as my favorite customer just because she was so simple to serve and always tipped an undisclosed amount of change. Could have been pennies for all I know, but its the thought that counts right? My interactions with her were simple and short, but memorable nonetheless. They usually went as follows: Hi Kathy. Hello (in her low quiet tone of voice with a bit of a smile/smirk on her face). The usual? she nods. Do you want the house coffee or the coffee of the day? She just laughs and shrugs her shoulders expressing that she really doesn't care. Then says, "I'll try the ___ cookie" She would then pay, I'd give her the change, she'd stick her hand in the tip jar dropping a few coins, and then head over to the bar for a seat. Later she would come back for a refill with the same smirk and odd look in her eye and tip a few more coins. In her seat she would often dance to whatever music was playing and bob her head. I don't know how, but she seemed to be able to hear any conversation from anywhere in the room, and if religion or theology ever was the topic, she would approach saying, "Jesus told me to get up and come over here." She would then just say all I can do is praise Jesus, thats really all you can do, or something like that. Then go back and sit down. In the last two months or so we talked a few times when I was in just as another customer like her. It would usually just be small talk where she would smile and chuckle after almost everything I said, and I would smile back after everything she said even though I usually didn't understand any of it. Before I knew it she would be standing close with a grandmotherly hand on my back, almost enough to make me feel slightly awkward, but I knew it was just her being her loving self. Her glasses, her cowboy hat, her sometimes slightly hairy face, and occasional loud mumbling to herself are all things I think I will miss. I've heard stories of her riding a skateboard around which I am very sad to say I never got to witness. She brought an odd enjoyment to my job, and I hope in some small way I was able to brighten up the last six months of her life of which I knew her. Goodbye Kathy