The Gift of Joy

The Gift of Joy

In 1992, I was accepted into college in Calgary, but

had not determined yet where I would live. I had

thought, “residence”, but my father and my Aunt Opal

had a plan.

Joy, my cousin, was widowed only three months

earlier and my father and her mother, determined

that whether or not she or I realized it, we needed

each other.

The Gift of JoyOur “co-habitation” at first was difficult. She was a 31-

year-old grieving widow and I was homesick country-kid

barely out of my teens, living in the “big city”.

Over time and long conversations about life, (usually

over wine) we found we had more in common than we

had imagined. Beyond family, we became inseparable

friends, finishing each-other’s sentences, sharing our

deepest secrets, screening bad boyfriends and spending

a good deal of time analyzing life, or as Joy would say,

“…solving the problems of the world”.

The Gift of Joy

One afternoon I received a call: Joy’s father had passed

away. He had suffered from Alzheimer's for many years, so

it was not a surprise, but no less painful. Joy was still very

much grieving the loss of a husband and was not

emotionally prepared to lose her father.

After the funeral Joy said to me, “…if another person in my

life dies, I don’t know what I will do.”

The Gift of Joy

A little more than a year later, I was working late at Spruce Meadows.

It was tournament time and we were putting in long hours. I don’t know

exactly when the feeling crept in, but it did, and with every hour, I

become more anxious. I did not know why, but I knew I needed to go

home.

Still I stayed. It was after 10pm when I turned to my manager and said,

“I need to go.”

The Gift of Joy

When I arrived home, it was almost midnight, yet the the lights were on.

It was a moment of knowing that the fear I sensed hours before was becoming real, yet I

did not know what it was.

I paused at the door and held my breath and thought, “I wish it could stay this way.” I didn’t

want to know. I didn’t want to walk into the living room where I knew I would find Joy.

But I did.

Joy was sitting in “her” chair, tears streaming down her cheeks. She had been waiting for

hours…she did not call my work, she did not let me know…she just waited until I got home.

The Gift of Joy“There was a car accident,” she choked. I don’t remember much after

she said the words.

Aunt Opal, the one who had co-conspired with my father, her mother, the

reason Joy and I were now friends, was gone.

As were five of our family members, my father’s sisters… Aunt Elsie and

Uncle Harold, Aunt Ruby and our cousin-in-law Ilene. Gone.

There is nothing one can do to prepare for the intense shock and grief we

felt, nor are there words to express the emptiness, nor the insanity of

having the media publish the pictures of the burned car or the names of

our family, over and over in the press.

The Gift of Joy

That day forever changed us.

Joy never again said, “…if someone else in my life

should die, I don’t know what I will do.”

We both knew what we would do… we would live.

We would be changed, but we would live.

The Gift of Joy

In 1997, our Uncle Carl, the only remaining besides my father, was

diagnosed with terminal lung cancer. It was Joy, who said to me after a

visit to the hospital, “…he is afraid and shouldn’t be alone.”

I understood, and because of Joy, I stopped my “busy life” to spend time

with Uncle Carl.

It was perhaps one of the best decisions I have ever made.

For months I came every day to read, talk and learn about my family.

Joy was travelling a lot with work, would come in with maps, pictures and

stories of her adventures. Carl would smile and look forward to our visits.

The Gift of Joy“Unckie” or Uncle Carl was like a father to me, and he was the first person

who I watched die. I held his hand, we told stories, I listened to the rattle in

his chest as he would try to sleep, and when the time came, I felt him leave.

Later Joy said to me,

“…at least we were able to say good-bye…I’ve never been able to say good-

bye.”

She was right, as difficult as it was, I had been blessed with the opportunity to

learn more about him, tell him I loved him, and ultimately, say goodbye. Joy

made me aware of how important something as simple as saying goodbye,

could be.

The Gift of JoyEvery year, Joy would give me a birthday

card, and every year she would write,

“..next year will be a better year.”

On my 30th birthday she wrote, “I am not

going to say it is going to be a better year…

who knows! xoxox” She and I both knew…

“Life isn’t about waiting for the storm

to pass, it is about learning to dance

in the rain.”

The Gift of Joy

In the winter of 2009, Joy complained of numbness in

her left hand and her left leg.

Doctors blamed nerve damage and I blamed running,

but even after surgery on her arm and a hiatus from

running, the numbness became more prevalent. We

knew it was a bigger problem when her right hand

began to atrophy… but we didn’t yet know what we

were dealing with.

The Gift of Joy

Joy was diagnosed with ALS – Amyotrophic Lateral

Sclerosis.

At 50 years of age, she learned that she would

rapidly lose the ability to walk, talk and eventually

breathe.

There is no known cause or cure for ALS.

Joy was going to die.

The Gift of JoyShe jumped from a plane.

She flew through the Grand

Canyon in a helicopter.

She travelled to Australia and

swam in the ocean.

The Gift of Joy

She moved her family to Mexico.

She got married.

She laughed out loud for as long as

ALS would allow.

She had a party (or a few) &

She said good-bye.

The Gift of Joy

Canada Day, 2011, in the midst

of fireworks and celebrations,

Joy left this world…

but she also left life

lessons, which I will

share with you.

The Gift of Joy

Don’t wait for the Doctor’s diagnosis to realize

you are going to die. You are going to die.

Instead, ask yourself, “How do I want to live?”

…and do that.

The Gift of Joy

Always say good-bye and appreciate the person

when you do. Good-bye’s may be final, don’t make

the last one regrettable or forgettable.

The Gift of Joy

Never be too embarrassed to say “I love you” and

hugs are good…very good. People do not hug near

enough, or say “I love you” as often as they should.

The Gift of Joy

Laugh loudly and live life large… don’t be afraid to

bare your soul. If being who you are causes others

to be uncomfortable, be who you are anyway.

The Gift of JoyLive life “Joy-fully”, knowing each day, each moment is a gift.

Be fearless. Be kind.

Laugh. Love. Dance. Sing. Repeat.

Joy taught me to be authentic and fearless. Thank you, Joy, for the

friendship. It was not an easy road, but I am glad I took it with you.

Perhaps still one day, Joy my friend, we will indeed solve the problems

of the world.

xoxo

The Gift of Joy

May is ALS month. Please raise awareness of ALS / MND and help

others who are diagnosed with this terrible disease. It is too late

for Joy, but I know that she would be overjoyed to know that in

some way, somehow, she might help to save others to overcome

this disease. Where there is hope, there is Joy.

In memory of Joy Styles, a Facebook page, and website have been created to share inspiration and

information about ALS (amyotrophic lateral sclerosis).

You can learn more at: http://www.hopeforjoy.ca or follow on Facebook,

https://www.facebook.com/hopeforjoy