Wednesday, October 13, 2021
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Joyce Haignere Brannan was my beloved biggest sister BUT also my second mom (after our mom died). We hadn’t lived in the same state since 1964, but we were always on the phone planning visits, holiday family gatherings, vacations, weddings, graduations, etc.
She taught me how to ice skate when she was an instructor at Ohio State University. When she returned from her year in Hawaii, she introduced me to Asian culture and taught me how to Hula dance. A junior high school teacher once asked my class if any of us had any role models. Mine was the only hand that shot up – “Yes, my sister, Joyce”. When my son, Sam, was born, Joyce graciously eased all my new-mom fears. Professionally, we were public health colleague, often attending professional conferences together. She administered Ohio’s CDC Youth Risk Behavior Survey (YRBS) annually, and I Philadelphia’s YRBS. She wrote curricula in sex education, interfaith collaborations, and even hospice care, to name just a few.
Most importantly, she didn’t just know you, she understood you without you realizing it. She never “shoulded” on anyone, i.e., telling them what they “should do”. Instead, she asked questions: What’s going on? How are you feeling? What do you want to do? What are your options? What’s the worst thing that could happen? She’d never been outside the US, but in 2008, when I invited her to meet me in Paris and travel to Switzerland, and Spain, she did it. Those two weeks were delightful, like traveling with a kid. Every time I turned around, she was so excited about something new I hadn’t noticed.
She was smart as a whip, fun loving, compassionate, hardworking, a great mom, aunt, grandma, and sister. She loved swimming, biking, reading, knitting, ice skating, building sand castles on the beach, asking probing questions, cheering on the Buckeyes, visiting friends, making new friends, playing with her grandkids, house painting inside and out, and at the end of the day, eating a bowl of strawberry ice cream.
When her flame went out on October 11th, a brilliant light of my life went out. My limitless tears since October 11th are a precious sign of ceaseless, abiding love that will sustain me for the rest of my life. Joyce would appreciate our shared grief as a sacrament – a lifeline connecting our hearts to one another.
May her neutrinos now brighten the supernovas of the universe.
May it be so and Amen.
