Mammaw was a genuinely beautiful woman--inside and out. Her tender influence permeated my life so deeply that it is impossible for me to separate out who I am inherently from the person she lovingly nurtured me to be. When I inspect many of the very best parts of me, I find Mammaw there. 

She is there in my childhood. She is sitting on the floor playing “Memory” and “Operation” with me. Blowing bubbles for me to catch in the backyard. Helping me make mud pies to squish at the top of the slide. Taking me on a backyard bear hunt. Teaching me to loving everyone--no matter how different they might be. Coming into the house on Christmas Eve, carrying another wrapped Barbie I’ve begged for. She is being a cashier at the pretend store we’ve created. Letting me drink the Jell-O before it stiffens. Jumping over ocean waves, hand in hand. Comforting my worried heart across a telephone line. She is tucking me in under the covers in her spare bedroom--never forgetting to leave the nightlight on. 

She is there in my adulthood. She is guiding me into motherhood. She is holding my one-month-old baby, reminding me to “just love that baby to death.” She is taking my kids on strolls up and down her apartment hallways. Pulling gifts and envelopes for them out of the seat of her walker. Playing peak-a-boo in a hospice bed. Reminding me that life is to be enjoyed, which might mean breaking rules every now and then. She is teaching me that a life well lived closes with a profound amount of joy. 

In the week since she departed this life, she has been here with me still. I have felt her influence guiding me to be more patient and loving to my children. To laugh and play with them. To tickle and tell stories. And simply to love them with every part of me. The way she loved me. 

Mammaw was a genuinely beautiful woman--inside and out.  Her tender influence permeated my life so deeply that it is impossible for me to separate out who I am inherently from the person she lovingly nurtured me to be. When I inspect many of the very best parts of me, I find Mammaw there. 

She is there in my childhood. She is sitting on the floor playing “Memory” and “Operation” with me. Blowing bubbles for me to catch in the backyard. Helping me make mud pies to squish at the top of the slide. Taking me on a backyard bear hunt. Teaching me to loving everyone--no matter how different they might be. Coming into the house on Christmas Eve, carrying another wrapped Barbie I’ve begged for. She is being a cashier at the pretend store we’ve created. Letting me drink the Jell-O before it stiffens. Jumping over ocean waves, hand in hand. Comforting my worried heart across a telephone line. She is tucking me in under the covers in her spare bedroom--never forgetting to leave the nightlight on. 

She is there in my adulthood. She is guiding me into motherhood. She is holding my month-old baby, reminding me to “just love that baby to death.” She is taking my kids on strolls up and down her apartment hallways. Pulling gifts and envelopes for them out of the seat of her walker. Playing peak-a-boo in a hospice bed. Reminding me that life is to be enjoyed, which might mean breaking rules every now and then. She is teaching me that a life well lived closes with a profound amount of joy. 

In the week since she departed this life, she has been with me still. I have felt her influence guiding me to be more patient and loving to my children. To laugh and play with them. To tickle and tell stories. And simply to love them with every part of me. The way she loved me. 

Mary Poppins had nothing on our Nanny, known to our family as Mammaw.   For 31 years, since the birth of our first daughter, Joyce Kunka has been part of our family. She watched our daughter at her home the first year then started coming to mine.  Everyday her husband made the drive from one end of University Blvd in Arlington to the other end in Lakewood to our home at 7:00 am to drop her off to be with our girls. She stayed until I got home from work around 6 every evening. During that time, my kids went on bear hunts, swimming, jumped on the trampoline, played all sorts of games and heard some of the most magical stories ever all from the confines of our back yard. They played barbies, made paper dolls, card games,  painted, and learned life lessons. When her husband retired, (Pawpaw) he came and stayed and played too. We were the most blessed parents in the world.  No children under someone else's care could have ever received the great amount of love mine did thanks to this sweet woman.  Mammaw fought a battle with cancer and won several years ago. This time at 89, the cancer won. With no grandkids of their own, our kids as pawpaw would say, were their grandkids by proxy. They were just as much a part of our family as our own parents were. Holidays, vacations, parties and weddings...they were there.  They were their grandparents in every since of the word.  And like all of the best grandma's, she had an uncanny ability to make you feel as though you were the most important person in the world and the most special.  Although she wasn’t in our home as the kids grew older, she was always in our hearts. The kids always made frequent visits to Mammaw. We will forever miss her, but we rejoice today because she has gone to be with Pawpaw, her precious Bernie. Til we meet again, Mammaw. We sure loved you.

If I become half of the woman that she was, I'll be lucky. Thanks for the last 29 years of support and love. You'll forever have a place in my heart. Love you always.

"And just like rain the tears keep falling
Nobody answers when I call your name"

OBITUARIO

Lovie Joyce Kunka

13 febrero, 1930 – 19 mayo, 2019

Hardage-Giddens Oaklawn Chapel & Oaklawn Cemetery

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