Evelyn
Evelyn Joyce Graham Stewart
Joyce Stewart, 92, of Lynchburg died Friday December 21. 2012. She was the loving wife of the late Morton C. Stewart.
Joyce was born September 17, 1920 in Meridian, Mississippi, a daughter of the late Ethel Graham and Louise May Graham.
She is survived by two daughters; Becky Moore of Concord and Jeanette Stewart of Falls Church, a son-in-law Roy Moore of Concord, three grandchildren: Jane Alford, Carey Alford, and David Alford all of Annandale.
Our mother was a very busy woman. Nothing pleased her more than a project, the more challenging and demanding, the better. In her lifetime, she thought up, planned out, and completed what seemed to be an endless number of \"necessary things to do.\"
Everyplace she ever was, she changed \"" cleaner, more organized, more beautiful. She transformed the shabby and neglected into colorful and cared for. She turned barren and boring spots into elegant flower gardens \"" gardens that caught the eye of every passerby, beckoned them to stop, to linger a moment to appreciate the lovely scene that Joyce has created. And stop they did – on foot and in cars.
All this she did so naturally – for she was a seeker of beauty \"" as she was a beauty herself.
Art was in her. Growing up, my sister and I watched Mother labor long hours over her sewing machine, the best money could buy – a gift from her husband, our father. It seemed to my sister and I that she could make anything with that sewing machine – curtains, covers for the couch, coats and of course our clothes. We went to school and played in the practical, simple things she made but Easter provided the opportunity for Mother to \"strut her stuff\". Mother designed and made our Easter dresses \"" every year of our youth. Dresses so adorned with ribbon and lace they were fit for royalty. What she could not accomplish with her machine, she accomplished with her hands.
Her handwork was impressive. She embroidered, stitched, beaded with infinite patience. I still have an evening dress and jacket she designed and beaded\"" a piece of art in and of itself, a treasure to me. Many of Mom\"™s embroidered pictures hang in my sister Becky\"™s home. I taught Mom to restore the color on prints \"" a skill and trade dating back hundreds of years. She mastered this and became the color restorer for some of the best galleries on the east coast. Her meticulous work adorns the homes of friends and family \"" but also the homes of many we will never know.
Yes, art and beauty were deeply engrained in Mom\"™s being but they were only a part of what she was. Mother was kind. Mother was thoughtful. Mother was compassionate. Mother was generous. If she saw a need, she tried to fill it. In each part of her life, she found a way to help others. As a child during the Great Depression, she helped her mother distribute commodities and cloth to the needy. During World War Two, she worked at military airports, \"talking the planes in and out safely;\" learned Morse code, became a telegrapher and part of the team of wartime woman that took up the work of brother and husband. My sister remembers her providing winter coats to the less fortunate children in our school.
She never failed to support my sister and I in any way she could. I will never forget the time she came to help me after I lost my first son to an accident. Her love and strength helped see me through those darkest days of my life. She embraced me and grieved with me. And when time passed and another son was born, she rejoiced with me. Even when her health had begun to decline, she volunteered in the hospital, directing people to proper places; assisting visitors find the rooms of their loved ones, giving a friendly, warm smile. She was proud and happy with this work. Becky and I were proud of her.
Before the end, Mother lost a great deal. Her sight became so diminished she could no longer read. She began listening to books on tape. For years, she reached out through those recorded voices \"" not content to be limited to the confines of a room. Time passed, tapes became CDs, and the stack of shiny disks grew and grew till at last she could no longer manage the buttons on the player. Her hands became uncooperative, no longer capable of the fine, delicate work they had once known. Yet, only in the last weeks of her life did Mom stop making plans, drawing up lists in her mind of \"necessary things to do\".
She suffered and endured with grace and kindness the many afflictions of the aged \"" arthritis, broken bones, infections, and the loss of sharpness of mind and memory. Confined and limited though she became, she retained the best of what she was \"" a kind and compassionate being.
I am deeply grateful for the part my sister, Becky, and her husband, Roy, have played in the care of Mother. It is impossible for me to imagine more thoughtful devoted caretakers than Becky and Roy. For years, they put aside their own plans and wishes to ensure that every day Mother had the best that could be provided. Being a caretaker is tedious, difficult, demanding but they performed their obligations with the same determination and selflessness that Mother had shown those she loved in her life. Need I say more.
The family wants to especially thank Dr. David Smith for his kind and considerate care. He has always been there from major emergencies to quality of life issues. Most importantly at the end of her life she was fortunate to have him there as a caring physician. The family will be forever grateful to Dr Smith and his staff at Access Health Care.
Mother and I never talked about religion much. I never saw discussion of religious ideas on her sheet of things to do with me. She was christened as a Catholic, raised in the Baptist Church, but chose the Episcopalian faith. I do know \"" for she told me \"" that she prayed to God every night for family and friends, for those in need and for those harmed and frightened. I cannot help but chuckle when I imagine Mom arriving at the pearly gates. She would look St. Peter directly in the eyes and without hesitation ask, \"What needs to be done? I require a long list – seems like I will be here awhile.\"
The family will hold a memorial on Saturday 29, 2012 at the Tharp Funeral Home, between the hours of 3 to 4:30 pm. A short remembrance by the family will be made at 3:15.
The family requests that in lieu of flowers, memorials be made to the Miller Home for Girls, Lynchburg\"™s Humane Society, or The Salvation Army.
Joyce was born September 17, 1920 in Meridian, Mississippi, a daughter of the late Ethel Graham and Louise May Graham.
She is survived by two daughters; Becky Moore of Concord and Jeanette Stewart of Falls Church, a son-in-law Roy Moore of Concord, three grandchildren: Jane Alford, Carey Alford, and David Alford all of Annandale.
Our mother was a very busy woman. Nothing pleased her more than a project, the more challenging and demanding, the better. In her lifetime, she thought up, planned out, and completed what seemed to be an endless number of \"necessary things to do.\"
Everyplace she ever was, she changed \"" cleaner, more organized, more beautiful. She transformed the shabby and neglected into colorful and cared for. She turned barren and boring spots into elegant flower gardens \"" gardens that caught the eye of every passerby, beckoned them to stop, to linger a moment to appreciate the lovely scene that Joyce has created. And stop they did – on foot and in cars.
All this she did so naturally – for she was a seeker of beauty \"" as she was a beauty herself.
Art was in her. Growing up, my sister and I watched Mother labor long hours over her sewing machine, the best money could buy – a gift from her husband, our father. It seemed to my sister and I that she could make anything with that sewing machine – curtains, covers for the couch, coats and of course our clothes. We went to school and played in the practical, simple things she made but Easter provided the opportunity for Mother to \"strut her stuff\". Mother designed and made our Easter dresses \"" every year of our youth. Dresses so adorned with ribbon and lace they were fit for royalty. What she could not accomplish with her machine, she accomplished with her hands.
Her handwork was impressive. She embroidered, stitched, beaded with infinite patience. I still have an evening dress and jacket she designed and beaded\"" a piece of art in and of itself, a treasure to me. Many of Mom\"™s embroidered pictures hang in my sister Becky\"™s home. I taught Mom to restore the color on prints \"" a skill and trade dating back hundreds of years. She mastered this and became the color restorer for some of the best galleries on the east coast. Her meticulous work adorns the homes of friends and family \"" but also the homes of many we will never know.
Yes, art and beauty were deeply engrained in Mom\"™s being but they were only a part of what she was. Mother was kind. Mother was thoughtful. Mother was compassionate. Mother was generous. If she saw a need, she tried to fill it. In each part of her life, she found a way to help others. As a child during the Great Depression, she helped her mother distribute commodities and cloth to the needy. During World War Two, she worked at military airports, \"talking the planes in and out safely;\" learned Morse code, became a telegrapher and part of the team of wartime woman that took up the work of brother and husband. My sister remembers her providing winter coats to the less fortunate children in our school.
She never failed to support my sister and I in any way she could. I will never forget the time she came to help me after I lost my first son to an accident. Her love and strength helped see me through those darkest days of my life. She embraced me and grieved with me. And when time passed and another son was born, she rejoiced with me. Even when her health had begun to decline, she volunteered in the hospital, directing people to proper places; assisting visitors find the rooms of their loved ones, giving a friendly, warm smile. She was proud and happy with this work. Becky and I were proud of her.
Before the end, Mother lost a great deal. Her sight became so diminished she could no longer read. She began listening to books on tape. For years, she reached out through those recorded voices \"" not content to be limited to the confines of a room. Time passed, tapes became CDs, and the stack of shiny disks grew and grew till at last she could no longer manage the buttons on the player. Her hands became uncooperative, no longer capable of the fine, delicate work they had once known. Yet, only in the last weeks of her life did Mom stop making plans, drawing up lists in her mind of \"necessary things to do\".
She suffered and endured with grace and kindness the many afflictions of the aged \"" arthritis, broken bones, infections, and the loss of sharpness of mind and memory. Confined and limited though she became, she retained the best of what she was \"" a kind and compassionate being.
I am deeply grateful for the part my sister, Becky, and her husband, Roy, have played in the care of Mother. It is impossible for me to imagine more thoughtful devoted caretakers than Becky and Roy. For years, they put aside their own plans and wishes to ensure that every day Mother had the best that could be provided. Being a caretaker is tedious, difficult, demanding but they performed their obligations with the same determination and selflessness that Mother had shown those she loved in her life. Need I say more.
The family wants to especially thank Dr. David Smith for his kind and considerate care. He has always been there from major emergencies to quality of life issues. Most importantly at the end of her life she was fortunate to have him there as a caring physician. The family will be forever grateful to Dr Smith and his staff at Access Health Care.
Mother and I never talked about religion much. I never saw discussion of religious ideas on her sheet of things to do with me. She was christened as a Catholic, raised in the Baptist Church, but chose the Episcopalian faith. I do know \"" for she told me \"" that she prayed to God every night for family and friends, for those in need and for those harmed and frightened. I cannot help but chuckle when I imagine Mom arriving at the pearly gates. She would look St. Peter directly in the eyes and without hesitation ask, \"What needs to be done? I require a long list – seems like I will be here awhile.\"
The family will hold a memorial on Saturday 29, 2012 at the Tharp Funeral Home, between the hours of 3 to 4:30 pm. A short remembrance by the family will be made at 3:15.
The family requests that in lieu of flowers, memorials be made to the Miller Home for Girls, Lynchburg\"™s Humane Society, or The Salvation Army.
To order memorial trees or send flowers to the family in memory of Evelyn Joyce Graham Stewart, please visit our flower store.
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