Friday, May 10, 2019
My relationship with Aunt Joyce truly blossomed when I was 16 years old and we visited her and Uncle Bobby in Tennessee, just a few short months before his passing. From then on, she was a regular visitor to our household, and my grandmother in all the ways that matter. She was precious and dear to my family, and I don’t know how you truly move forward with this kind of loss. She would have pish-poshed the idea that she was so important, but her impact will have lasting effects on the rest of my life.
Aunt Joyce was quite possibly one of the most stubborn women I’ve ever known. Which is one of the reasons she was able to forge on in seasons of grief and loneliness and grow during the seasons of love and joy. Her faith was challenged in ways that many of us could never dream of, and yet she prayed on, hoped on, and loved on. Her strength and desire to serve made her an admirable example for young men and women to look up to, as I certainly did.
My Aunt Joyce was fiercely independent, but not aloof. She gave all the love she could to everyone she met, and that love included a stark honesty that we so rarely get the privilege of experiencing now. Her honesty wasn’t always painless, but it was always given with the hope to nurture better things, whether that was to improve a behavior or promote growth as an individual.
I don’t know the true number of kids that she fostered, but I do know that she showered all of them with love, affection, and direction when they were with her. Informally, she adopted my siblings and myself as her grandchildren, showering us with attention and love, and being present during the most important events of our lives. Even as far away as she was most of the year, Aunt Joyce was always present for us.
Aunt Joyce was an uncommonly good mother, aunt, sister, and grandmother. She was strong, intelligent, funny, and talented. She was and is so loved, and will be missed by each of us who knew her.
