“You weren’t just pretty, you were as beautiful as a woman could be. People didn’t just like you, Whitney. They loved you. I was your pretend bodyguard once not so long ago, and now you’re gone, too soon, leaving us with memories – memories of a little girl that stepped bravely in front of this church, in front of the ones that loved you first. In front of the ones that loved you best and loved you the longest. The bolder you stepped into the white-hot light of the world stage, and what you did is the rarest of achievements.
“You set the bar so high that professional singers, your own colleagues, they don’t want to sing that little country song. What would be the point? Now, the only ones who sings your songs are young girls like you, who are dreaming of being you some day. And so to you, Bobbi Kristina and to all those young girls who are dreaming that dream, that maybe thinking, are they good enough? I think Whitney would tell you, ‘Guard your bodies, guard the precious miracle of your own life, and then sing your hearts out,’ knowing that there’s a lady in heaven who is making God himself wonder how he created something so perfect.
“So off you go, Whitney, off you go. Escorted by an army of angels to your heavenly father, and when you sing before him, don’t worry . . . you’ll be good enough.”