When I met her, Joan was vibrant, young, and had been widowed just five years earlier. She was single-handedly raising a teen-boy and parent of two grown men, one of which was my boyfriend. Joan made a great first impression, and unlike some first impressions - hers lasted. She was soft-spoken and kind from the start. She asked just the right questions and seemed to accept me as a person instantly. She laughed easily. She dressed fashionably but not pretentiously. She made me feel welcome.
Before I knew it Joan and I were friends. In some freak accident of the universe, she ended up dating her future second husband (my colleague and friend Walt) at the same time I was dating my future husband, her son. Because we were both in the dating stage, we ended up sharing stories with each other and seeking advice, more as friends than as people a generation apart. I will always treasure those early memories of Joan. I remember being shocked to learn she had helped my boyfriend at the time to buy a neglige as a Valentine's Day present, something that would be unheard of in my family.
After my marriage to Brent and arrival of our kids, Joan became "Grandma Joanie." She played that role brilliantly, spoiling our kids whenever and however she could. She was the one who helped us in the first week as parents of a newborn.
These previous paragraphs capture some bits of who Joan was but not the most striking aspect of her person - her strength. She had a quiet strength like none other I have witnessed in person. Her first husband was killed in an accident after nineteen years of marriage, leaving her (at the young age of 38) with three boys, two still at home to raise alone. And she did it. She did it well. After only 15 months of marriage to her second husband Walt (previously mentioned), he, too, died young. Again she picked up the pieces of her life and carried on, still with that gentle chuckle and smile and gleam in her eye.
Then, after already becoming a grandmother, she bravely put her profile on a dating service which would eventually lead to her third marriage and love of her later-life, Jack. Jack, it turns out is also a quiet, strong and loving individual. What a match and what a blessing - because Joan was destined to die young herself. After battling a cancer for nearly four years that the doctors had predicted would take her in three months, she, too, headed to her heavenly home. She was just 65 years old.
Yesterday she would have turned 66 and in three days our family will celebrate our first Mother's Day without her. I can think of no better way to celebrate her than by writing this post. Salut, Grandma Joanie!
May 5, 2016
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