Howard, How Was Your Dinner?

William T. “Bill” Joyce, 89 of Bloomington passed away Saturday May 29, 2021 at 11:40 AM at Heritage Health in Normal. There will be a graveside service at Park Hill Mausoleum at 11 AM on Monday June 7, 2021 with military rites accorded by the Bloomington-Normal American Legion Honor Guard. Pastor Brent Salm will officiate.

Bill was born December 12, 1931 in Dover, TN to Tiner and Maggie Young Joyce. He married Rosemary Mahon on June 9, 1956 in Granite City, IL. She survives.

He is also survived by 4 children, Debra (Lary) Rosenbloom, of Aiken, SC, David Joyce, of Danvers, Laura (John Lofgren) Evans of Metamora, Pam Joyce of Bloomington, eight grandchildren and ten great-grandchildren.

That info was taken (stolen) from the obituary. So what does that have to do with me? I will explain. Bill Joyce was my uncle. He wasn’t an uncle I saw a lot during my youth, but he was family. To get technical, Aunt Rosemary was family by blood, or whatever it’s called these days. Aunt Rosemary was my father’s youngest sister. Half-sister if you want to split hairs.

I’ve been Facebook friends with Debbie Joyce (Rosenbloom) for years. She is a professional genealogist. No! She doesn’t live in a bottle and pop out to grant wishes. She researches family ancestry. She has traced our family history back to the time of Moses, or close to it. When I heard Uncle Bill had passed away, I had my secretary clear my busy calendar, so I could attend the memorial service. I think I had to reschedule one meeting. I live about a hundred miles away from the Bloomington area, so I didn’t have to drive across the country, or take a flight from the middle of nowhere. I was there in May. The middle of nowhere, I mean.

Uncle Bill served in the Korean War, so there was a full military honor guard at the service. I arrived at the funeral home in time to see some of the family, and I joined the procession to the cemetery. I’ve been to memorial services enough times to know what to expect. For some reason, this military honor service was more emotional. Don’t ask me to explain why, but it just was. I felt the emotional suffering of the four children, my cousins, and was glad I sat in the back so no one was able to see the tears in my eyes. I clenched my jaw to keep from becoming too emotional, but it wasn’t easy. I listened as David talked about his father’s influence on his life, and was surprised to learn he felt most influenced by a wrench, rather than the badge or gun his father wore as a state trouper. Laura read a story she had written about her father, and, as I looked around, I saw than everyone was either weeping openly or struggling to hold back their emotions. Debbie, being the oldest, and self-claimed loudest, talked about her father and the family.

After the service, I followed the family to a park in Danvers. David lived basically across the street and that was where the family gathered. I stayed on the fringe and watched for the most part. I talked to David about cars. He’s been a professional mechanic for forty years. Later, I sat with Debbie and her husband, Lary, and we talked about family. Debbie knows a lot about the family. Professional genealogist, remember. Even though we don’t see each other very often – almost never – it amazed me how much we remembered. It’s a shame families don’t get together except for funerals. Everyone is so busy even in the age of COVID.

Aunt Rosemary’s health isn’t too great. She has suffered heart attacks, strokes and you name it. Uncle Bill was in severe pain for the last years of his life. Debbie talked to her parents on the phone almost daily for the last twenty years, since she lives in South Carolina. The other kids were close enough to visit in person. She told me about some of her conversations with her father and mother. I could relate because of my mother’s health at the end of her life.

If you’re wondering where the title for this blog came from, I’ll explain. I didn’t mix up the blogs and this one was supposed to have an ordinary title like “The Life Of Bill Joyce” or something. I like to be creative with some of my titles. Debbie would be talking to her father, and at times, he would be perfectly rational, lucid and in his right mind. Other times, his mind would wander. Debbie told me her father would be talking to her and having a normal conversation, then out of the blue he would ask her, “Howard, how was your dinner?” Obviously, Debbie is not Howard. I can relate because my mom would sometimes get kinda loopy.

I laughed with Debbie and enjoyed hearing the stories about this part of the family. Eventually, I needed to head home. I said goodbye to my cousins. If life goes according to the usual cycle, the next time I see them will be at Aunt Rosemary’s memorial service. It’s sad, but that’s the way life goes too often.

For now, I will think of my memories of the Joyce Family.

Debbie, I hope you have a safe trip home. This trip can’t have been easy for you because of your father’s death and, in all likelihood, you will be saying goodbye to your mother. When you stop for a break along the way to South Carolina, have something special to eat, and remember to think about your father. You can tell him, “Howard enjoyed his dinner.”