The loss of Joyce Hynds
Natalie March 2nd, 2010
Heroes come in many forms. The most famous save us from bad guys, pull us out of burning buildings, and throw winning touchdown passes. But the heroes that most profoundly touch and shape us are the ones that exist in our everyday lives–those who inspire us, challenge us, motivate us, and put a smile on our face just by being in the same room. Joyce Hynds was such a person. She was a dear friend, a mentor, a role model, and a confidant to me. She was also my hero.
Joyce lost her battle with cancer early yesterday morning. For those of you who knew Joyce, you understand my profound sadness (celebrating her through these words is all I can do right now to keep the tears somewhat at bay). For those that didn’t have the privilege of knowing her as I did, I hope that reading this will do her memory justice and give you some kind of idea of what a truly amazing person she was and why she will be missed so.
And so, with that being said . . .
Joyce liked to wear high heels and give warm hugs. She probably never thought much about the hugs she would give me in the hallway at EMC but it made my day. And looking back, I think that those famous heels and hugs together create the perfect metaphor for who Joyce was: a sharp, stylish, witty, no-nonsense gal with a passion for life and a heart with room and love for everyone; someone who could giggle like a school girl one moment and stand toe to toe with any head of state the next.
When Joyce spoke it was always an occasion to listen. Her animated and vibrant persona would command and light up a room even when talking about what she ate for breakfast. She entertained everyone in a casual and unassuming way that neither drew undue attention to herself or came at anyone else’s expense.
This easy and affable nature, though, often hid the fact that an incredibly tough and stoic woman lied just beneath the surface–a side of her I might never have known had I not returned to her desk unexpectedly one day to return the gym badge she had left behind. I knew something was off when, well before I reached Joyce’s desk, I heard a man barking and bleating like a bully about some papers that he claimed to desperately need. As I got closer to her desk, I realized that the unpleasantness was being directed at Joyce. Myself feeling a bit taken aback from the man’s domineering tone, I was blown away by how cool and unyielding Joyce was. In that moment, my normally warm friend was firm and unflappable. She dispassionately yet firmly explained to the brute that he wasn’t going to get those papers and why. A reaction that made his antics look all the more pedestrian and childish. It may not sound like that riveting a story but I have channeled and emulated the Joyce I saw on that day on several occasions when I needed similar strength and resolve.
Did I mention that Joyce liked to wear high heels? And not just any high heels, mind you, but insanely high heels. All the time. And yet she pulled it off. Her fashion sense was vivacious and colorful and completely in tune and distinct to who she was. Her personal style achieved the perfect balance of professional and fun, whimsical and polished, and served as a model for all of us still searching for that elusive “career look”. Instead of the groundhog, we all looked to Joyce every year and waited for her festive silk skirts and peep-toed heels as a sure sign of Spring.
As you can obviously surmise from what I’ve already shared about her, Joyce had a work hard, play hard attitude towards everything in life. I’ve never known anyone, especially at Joyce’s age, so dedicated to physical fitness and yet also so ready to tear into a cheesecake or big box of white chocolates. Joyce had a body that made women half her age jealous and she was walking proof that when you attack exercise as passionately as you attack food, you can have your cake and eat it too. I’m going to be lost without my spin, step-aerobic, and Turkey-Trot buddy. Even though she spun, stepped, and ran circles around me, she was my inspiration and my guide. However, I do have a sneaky suspicion that she stayed in such tremendous shape throughout the years not for the sake of vanity or athletic accomplishment but because of her undying crush on Tom Selleck!
Of all the things Joyce was, though, it was her role as Grandmother that meant the most to so many. Her love and dedication to her own family was at the center of her strength and beauty and she extended that love well beyond her own offspring. Joyce was particularly famous for her “baby wall” which was a side of her cubicle entirely dedicated to pictures of her EMC families’ children. Every new child had a place on her wall and she maintained it and boasted about it as if every baby on there was her own grandchild. I’ll never forget her reaction when I told her I was pregnant (I still have blood in my head from the strength of her hug) and how she constantly checked in on me and saw me not only through the pregnancy but through my new life as a working mom–perhaps the greatest of all the many gifts she gave me. Taking my baby son to meet Joyce was one of the proudest and most special moments of my life.
Like any true leader or role model, I don’t think Joyce ever thought of herself as one. And I doubt she knew that she was my hero. The great thing about people like Joyce is that none of that matters to them. They don’t do what they do for accolades or recognition. With the poise of a statesman and an angel’s heart, Joyce served as a flesh-and-blood example of what we all can aspire to be. I urge all of us look at the positive and tangible impact she had on everything and everyone around her and consider that as we now go about life without her.
Some of the people who are near us are queens wearing invisible tiaras. Joyce Hynds was one of those queens masquerading as common folk.
I will miss you, girlfriend.
Updated to add ceremony information as well as link to tributes on the Funeral Home Site: http://www.lehmanreen.com/obituaries/tributes.php?id=12437 (Thanks, Doug!)
