My great grandma, Billie “Joy” Knight, was a strong woman. Though most would think of her as sweet, kind, shy, maybe even soft, I chose to remember her as strong. Hers was a quite strength, not one that was boisterous or crazy. No, that was her partner in crime, grandad Ted. She married her best friend at the young age of 16 and loved him until her last breath at 85. She must have been one tough gal, because he was a trucker, a hay hauler, and she was his sidekick. I had nearly forgotten this duo because he passed when I was much younger, but at her funeral Saturday the pastor mentioned a familiar phrase she used to say, “oh Ted!” I can hear it ringing in my ears now as I recall his teasing and her playful reprimand as she smacked his knee. They were quite a pair. She had a deep faith in her Heavenly Father. Sunday, during worship, I had an image of the two of them, reunited, holding hands, singing praises in the very presence of God.
She raised 3 lovely girls and lost a son when he was only 16. While they are all smart, talented, wonderful women, life happened and storms came in each of their lives. When her daughters’ worlds fell apart, when their marriages failed, when they were broken, she held her family together. She drew them in and held them close with her quiet strength. She was a rock that they could always come to. And because of this she also raised numerous grandchildren on and off throughout the years, including my dad. He tells stories of how she would get up, wake Grandad and him up and have breakfast on the table before they could get out of bed and dressed.
My favorite memories are of Christmas Eve at her house. I remember the chaos of 30+ people talking, laughing, eating in her tiny living room. Every chair filled, children on the floor, grandma and grandad in their respective recliners, people squeezed in every corner. No one was turned away. An ex-husband and his new family, a new girlfriend, an in-law’s brother. This was family initiation and I couldn’t wait to bring my own significant other to the party. (Maybe I should have prepared Ansen a little better. He was quite overwhelmed the first time.) The only thing she wouldn’t tolerate was smoking in the house or alcohol. These were the rare occasions I saw my grandma Connie, grandma Joy’s daughter, sober. The kids got presents from grandma or their parents brought some. But the pièce de résistance was the women’s and men’s gift exchange. As a kid I couldn’t wait until I was old enough to join, though I’m not sure why. My first year I got a small blanket. As a 13 year old, that’s quite a bummer. (Now, I love that blanket!) Sometimes there was snow. Sometimes we’d head over to my mom’s mom’s to stay the night. Once or twice we even stayed at grandma Joy’s. Usually we’d drive back home to have Christmas morning at our house. Whatever happened afterward wasn’t important, there was just something magical about that night filled with family, laughter, life. It was special. I’m so glad I got to experience the last one this past Christmas.
Grandma Joy was a strong woman, who pulled her family together, who faced hardship, who worked hard, who was tough as nails and soft as butter, who relied upon God, and was finally give the rest that a strong woman needs. She is resting by her Savior today, with her love, a son and a daughter. See you again soon, Grandma.