I last spoke with Aunt Joyce at my father's wake in August 2013.

Certainly, there were rifts, major misunderstandings, within the family. (Which family does not have such?) But I am certainly able to speak for myself when I state that Joyce never treated ME with other than respect, as well as with a thankful lack of condescension. I will remember her always for that enduring, personal kindness.

Again, I speak for no one other than myself, and state, without equivocation, that such inter-family misjudgments were revealed to me in a rather one-dimensional way, surely without the depth needed for a proper and fair evaluation for all to witness.

I close with the following, attributable to Horace, and intended, by me, to be a salutary, charitable closing for all:

Mors ultima linea rerum est. (Death is everything's final limit.)

- David Lyga

“Death is having to leave some things unfinished.”
from Shine, Shine, Shine by Lydia Netzer

Though our mother, Joyce, had a full and busy life, she fell ill quickly and as we remember her we can’t help thinking she would have enjoyed just one more of so many things.

one more conversation with a total stranger in the checkout line at the grocery store
one more good recipe from a Food Network show
one more pumpkin loaf baked and mailed to her children and grandchildren
one more hand of bridge at home
	and at the Orchards
	and at the Country Club of Waterbury
	OK - three more hands of bridge then
one more pillow for breast cancer patients, made with her friends at the Woman’s Club 
one more lunch with the La Belle Red Hats
one more pull on the handle of a slot machine at Foxwoods
one more Sunday Mass
one more lobster roll in Maine
one more gossip by the pool in Florida
one more visit to Boston
one more visit to Wilton
one more episode of Shark Tank 
one more three- or four-phone-call recipe
one more crossword from the Republican-American
one more Flying Saucer from Carvel, preferably in the shape of a turkey or a Santa
one more chance to try to learn how to use her iPhone, Kindle, and tablet
one more sunny hour tending her flowers
one more “shortcut” in the car
one more phone chat with Gloria and Jeannette
one more lasagna with meatballs at Sunday dinner
one more outfit to order from Chico’s or Nordstrom’s
one more meal at the Country Club of Waterbury
one more correct Final Jeopardy answer
one more birthday card to each grandchild
one more hot dog from Frankie’s
one more murder mystery from the library
one more laugh with Chris and Dan
one more trip to some beautiful spot in the world
one more Southington High School Reunion 
one more walk up and down Buckland Street
one more Christmas Eve with all the cousins
one more spritz of Estee Lauder
one more glass of white
one more 
one more

Whatever anyone may want to add to the list, we know she was thankful for the many, many visits, calls, emails, and notes she received from her wide web of friends in her last months.  She couldn’t possibly have wished for even one more of those.  

Well, maybe just one.

I extend my deepest sympathy to the three daughters. You were the light in her life.  I hope the warm
Memories will help at this sorrowful time. Mrs Joseph Daly

We don't think Robert Frost knew mom, but this poem could have been written about her...

The Silken Tent
by Robert Frost

She is as in a field a silken tent
At midday when the sunny summer breeze
Has dried the dew and all its ropes relent,
So that in guys it gently sways at ease,
And its supporting central cedar pole,
That is its pinnacle to heavenward
And signifies the sureness of the soul,
Seems to owe naught to any single cord,
But strictly held by none, is loosely bound
By countless silken ties of love and thought
To every thing on earth the compass round,
And only by one's going slightly taut
In the capriciousness of summer air
Is of the slightest bondage made aware.

OBITUARY

Joyce Manca

24 June, 1937 – 25 July, 2015

Della Vecchia Funeral Home

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