Betty Tole "No one has ever seen God; but, as long as we love one another, God will live in us and his love will be complete in us." Our first reading was taken, not from the funeral lectionary, but from the readings appropriate for a wedding. And that is most apt for several reasons, the most obvious of which is that it is a reading about the divine nature of love. Love is the very first word that comes to mind when we think about Betty. The Greek word that St John uses for love in our first reading is "agape" and it simply means all-giving. God is all-giving; with him everything is free gift, grace. And that is why we can be certain that God lived in Betty, because her whole life was devoted to self-giving, a quality of giving that was supremely manifest in the reciprocal, selfless and unstinting generosity that was at the heart of her wonderful relationship with her late husband, Frank. If ever a marriage was a sacramental sign to the world of God's infinite love it was that of Betty and Frank: two people so different and yet so felicitously complementary to each other at every level. Everything she did secured his appreciation and gratitude; everything he did merited her unfeigned interest and admiration. I first met Betty and Frank some 35 years ago now when she bore down on me – Frank in tow – at a parents’ evening, when I was teaching Robert chemistry in the fourth year at St Ambrose. I soon discovered that, in reality, and contrary to that first formidable impression, she was one of the sweetest, kindest, softest and most emotional of all the parents I ever dealt with. Many years later, as my ordination approached the canon asked me to take Holy Communion to Betty’s mother while he was away. Though it is some 19 years ago now, I will never forget ascending that staircase in Litchfield Avenue to the bedroom where her mother was gently dying. The old lady was most lovingly and beautifully cared for. The room was immaculate, the bed linen spotless, the patient herself dressed as carefully, prettily and tidily as the archetypal Hollywood grandma. The room was accurately prepared for a home communion service with candles, white cloth and crucifix. Betty clucked gently in the background. She was doing what she was supremely good at – looking after people better than could ever be imagined. Whether it was Frank or the boys – Robert, Michael and Ian and their spouses, the grandchildren and, at the very last, her first great grandchild – Betty’s greatest pleasure was in giving herself to others unstintingly. That care extended to all around her. Her larder was always packed with goodies to be shared with her immediate family and then her extended family which included her hairdresser, Linda, her gardener and, latterly myself and even those with whom she finally shared a hospital ward. Her home was always a joy to visit, as was her garden. Frank always kept the garden and house immaculate. Rather like the late Queen Mother, she would describe with obvious delight the work going on in the garden or house under her eagle eye, effected by the royal gardener and decorator – Frank – but under Betty’s careful supervision, of course. But there is a price to pay for being so loving, so self-giving. I saw her pay that price when at last her cherished mother died. I saw her pay that price again when her adored Frank discovered he was suffering from motor neurone disease. Again she went into her customary caring mode, but Frank succumbed to the disease fairly swiftly and Betty endured the terrible loss. Inevitably, for one so loving, the love that she had showered on her mother and Frank was now shared with her family and others. She would give her neighbours lifts to Mass. She maintained a lively interest in the parishioners she had known almost since the foundation of the parish. But sadly even this source of self-giving was soon denied her as she became unable to drive and was restricted to the house. There one of her greatest joys was to receive Holy Communion and to hear news of those parishioners she knew but could no longer visit. Cruelly, towards the end, she even suffered the loss of the beautiful home and garden that she and Frank had created. Her last nine months in hospital were an emotional roller coaster as hope of release briefly appeared, only to be wrenched from her grasp. Christmas came and went, then Easter, and she began to doubt that she would ever see her home again. In all that time I never heard her say one word of reproach to God. Her faith remained her great consolation and I will count as one of my enduring blessings the last meeting I had with her in Ward F7 when I was able to give her her very last Holy Communion the day before her massive cerebral haemorrhage. The following day, though she was by then unconscious and peaceful, I am sure that she would have been immensely grateful, as we all are, to Fr David for celebrating the Sacrament of the Sick with her before she died. Betty’s whole life was one of self-giving love. St John assures us that, “as long as we love one another God will live in us and his love will be complete in us.” I think we can be certain that the Divine self-giving Love has now brought Betty’s life to that completeness and perfection in love for which we all long. Let us be glad for her.