Joya

The vibrant colors of the marigolds draping over her coffin drew my attention as I walked into the funeral parlor. The bright golds and reds and oranges and red oranges were a burst of color ... like the sun had decided to stop by to honor the life of my friend ... and she deserved it. I stuttered to a stop inside the doorway. Such was the impact of that bright and beautiful display. At that moment I felt a deep appreciation for the person who chose those flowers because they were symbolic of the life of Joya.

Yep! That was her name ... and you guessed it ... lol ... her name means “joy.” Of course, it was probably her mom who chose the floral arrangement; the same person who named her.

Joya and I met at the ripe old age of 5 yrs. old. We were in the same kindergarten class, and her desk was next to mine. I looked over at a girl with red hair and big blue eyes staring at me with a smile as wide as her mouth, missing tooth on bold display. She said without taking a breath, “Hi! My name is Joya. That means joy. What’s your name? I really like your hair! It’s all twisty and shiny. You’re so pretty! Will you be my friend?”

Even at 5 yrs. old no one could resist the pull of Joya’s spirit. The fear that I had felt being in “big school,” as my mom called it, for the first time melted away in the brightness of her smile and the hope of friendship in her eyes.

I found myself smiling back at her, saying, “Hi! My name is Olivia! I don’t know what it means. I really like your hair, too. It’s red!! You’re so pretty, too! Yes, I’ll be your friend." Apparently, I had decided that I would try an all-in-one breath introduction as well ... lol. I could never have imagined that this joy would be taken away from us too soon.

Joya and I became inseparable. She learned that my twisty hair was styled in ... twists ... lol. I remember her being so fascinated that she asked her mother to style her hair the same way. She was so disappointed when her mother told her that her hair was "not twisty enough" to maintain that style. I learned ... something I’m still amazed by today ... that my name, Olivia, means “peace” (Of course, Joya had gone home and asked her mother what my name means).

So, her mom started calling us peace and joy or joy and peace (we didn’t care about the order) which spread to all the other people in our lives. We loved it! When our friends saw us approaching, they’d say, “Here comes Peace and Joy!” or “Joy and Peace approaching!” as we got older, and we’d all laugh.

As we grew older, we realized that our friendship was meant to be. We were family, which proved to be more true than we had ever realized, because I fell in love with her older brother, Callum, whose name, as it turns out means “dove.” Joya’s mom had wisdom that was truly preternatural. I don’t know what I did right to deserve these people in my life, but I am SO grateful! Joya was now my real sister because her brother became my husband.

Callum and I were married when I turned 21 and he was 23 ... only two years ago. Joya was the best maid of honor that anyone could hope for, even though she was already battling the early symptoms of Hodgkin’s lymphoma cancer. She was already undergoing radiation treatment. But I remember her being so happy that her hair had not fallen out, so she wouldn’t “mess up” the wedding photos. That was Joya ... selfless to a fault!

Joya became a constant presence at our apartment between treatments and doctor visits. Callum and I wanted every moment we could with her. We knew as Joya did, that the diagnosis was not good.

Callum suffered greatly, as did I. We could NOT believe that this was happening to her or to us as mere twenty-something year-olds. But Joya, with credit to her name, fought hard against depression – both her own and ours. She insisted on maintaining the joy that her name had given birth to in herself and in everyone she met. Of course, she had her downtimes. But I could see that she would pray and talk herself back to that place of joy time and time again. She would tell us things like, “I could not have received more love from my family and friends in a thousand years. So, what difference does it make if it only took twenty-three?” It was obvious she had inherited the great wisdom and strength of her mother.

Many nights my husband soaked my breasts with his tears. But when daylight came, he would intentionally pull himself together and be everything a big brother could be. They were such amazing people! I thanked God every day for bringing them into my life. I found myself pulling from the peace for which I was named, just as Joya pulled from that joy. She was my inspiration, and I was determined that I would make the most of the time I had left with my best friend.

Even with our hearts weighted down, we had more fun in those last years than we’d probably had in all the years prior. We took road trips to the beach and ski trips to the mountains. We shopped ‘til we dropped. We checked off every possible item we could on Joya’s bucket list. I wanted to help give her the fullest life possible in her short time with us, and I wanted her family to have that comfort as well. I hoped that it would help with the feeling that “she missed out on so much” after she was gone. My plan was to remind them of all she had enjoyed, as well as the love they had given her in such abundance.

I looked to the front of the parlor and saw Callum sitting in the front row in a daze. As I approached he looked up and saw me, then tears began to fall down his cheeks. I rushed to him and put my arms around him as he laid his head on my shoulder and wept. Tears were running down my face as well, but I let him cry until he got some relief.

As he lifted his head and looked toward the coffin, I said, “Those flowers are amazing! Your mom made a beautiful choice!” Callum replied, “Actually, I’m the one who chose that spray. I wanted the most perfect flowers for my most perfect little sister, so I googled the meanings of flowers. I learned that marigolds are associated with the warmth of the sun, happiness, joy, love, passion, optimism, and good luck. Yet, they sometimes also symbolize darker emotions such as grief and mourning.”

I looked at my husband in amazement! He replied to my somewhat shocked look, “I guess you’re surprised I remembered ... really, memorized ... all of that. But all those things describe my sister; so how could I forget?

I grabbed my husband and held him until his mother walked up to us. She offered her hands, pulling us both up into her embrace. There were more tears. But her presence, as always, was a comforting balm that never failed to make things better. Her favorite scripture was Romans 8:28, “All things work together for good for those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” My “mother-in-love” lived it!

In the weeks following her death, I knew I would never fully understand why Joya had to go so soon. But her presence in our world was so bright in the short time she was with us that the warmth of our loving memories with her illuminated our lives still, and I was certain they would help to heal us in the years to come.

Also, guess what I shared with my husband the morning after the funeral. I’m pregnant! It was a bittersweet moment, and we cried through our happiness. But we know we'll be OK. If we have a boy, he will take his daddy’s name. If it’s a girl, wanna’ guess what we will name her? It’s OK ... I’ll tell you ... Joya Clementine (which also means peace) Hartford! Joy and Peace will live on!!