Little Benedictus was the name given to her. She came to our small town fifteen years an outlier of all that was good . Her eccentricity, her love, compassion for all religious or downright pagan . She had love for all. In the town I’d see her marching down the street with her wander staff greeting people as they came along. In my small community she would join in the Mass on a Sunday , and when it came time to share Little Benedictus would start by thanking the Carmelites, Josephites , Dominicans, and even those crazy Camaldolese ( hermit order which I was one) . Then she would thank the Lord for the pagans, Buddhists, and every other goddamn creature that walked, flew or crawled on the earth. She was a walking talking gospel, a threshing machine when working. She had Asperger’s syndrome. At mass I would attempt to kiss her on the cheek with the peace be with you stuff and she’d swivel her head so far that I ended up kissing her earlobe. One day she offered to drive me to the train station about an hour away for I was headed for India. I bought her a big bunch of red roses and after I handed the flowers to her she threw them in the back seat like they were garbage. I wasn’t offended it was just the way she was. Then she got cancer of the tongue . I went to see her the night I was to launch my book. The doctor came in and gave her the bad news that nothing else could be done. The doctor addressed me as Father, and she roared out laughing saying he’s no priest , not this fellow . Six months later she shrivelled away till there was nothing left but love. The day of her funeral the town came out in their droves. The funeral was held by the river, her coffin laying there in the sun. Just as the priest began , a brilliant coloured rosella crossed over her coffin like a great shadow. It wasn’t just me that noticed it, everyone spoke about that brilliant flash of light. Yep, she sure was a piece of work. When we got to the cemetery we lowered her in the ground. I wailed like a baby, I’m not sure why, she wasn’t my type, I guess I loved her because I sure as hell knew she loved me.