Joyce Carol Myers

Joyce Carol Myers was a lion. And she was a lamb. She was a survivor who moved forward no matter what; who endured what most men and women could not and yet held close a guileless idealism that persevered until her very last moment of consciousness. That moment occurred on May 26 as she prepared to walk her beloved companion and dog, Mackenzie.

Joyce died the following day, May 27, of complications from a pulmonary embolism that no one saw coming. She was 88 years old.

A child with the fortune to arrive after the Great Depression and before World War II, Joyce’s outlook was keenly shaped by worldwide events that required discipline, sacrifice, perseverance – and humor. A cascade of life-altering circumstances propelled her forward; among the first being the death of her mother when she was 23. So Joyce stepped forward and helped raise her younger siblings.

Joyce also raised four daughters as a single parent, providing well for them by waiting tables, honorably. She did not acquiesce to challenges, she just kept going. When her husband left the young family, Joyce got her driver’s license and found work. When the state offered financial assistance, she refused it. When she wanted each of her daughters to have a bed, she slept on the couch.

When Joyce lost two of her daughters, in 2001 and 2023, she stumbled. Then she got back up.

Every step of the way, Joyce set an example. She spent the lion’s share of her days on her feet, pulling double shifts at the restaurant for decades and working her way up to general manager. Throughout, she maintained that sense of idealism, exhibiting it through disarmingly warm kindness and humor.

She had some adventures, too. Joyce traveled to Ireland, Colombia and Jamaica. She explored coastal California, took whale-watching trips off the coast of Maine, loved visiting her granddaughter in Vermont, and attending (many) Yankees games with her grandson. When she finally retired at 71, from Charlie Brown’s restaurant, Joyce turned her attention to adventures closer to home: her grandchildren, great grandchild and two very lucky dogs, many of whom got to enjoy her weekly Wednesday dinners.

In her next adventure, Joyce will join her daughters, Helen and Debra; her son-in-law, Jim; her sister, Gail; her father, Arthur, and mother, Helen; and great nephew Christopher Giraldo. She leaves behind a legacy of two very grateful daughters, Cynthia (Jim) McDougall Maddalena and Lisa (Mike) Biank Fasig; a grandson, Eric (Piyada) Heyer; granddaughters Missy (John) Hirsch, Sara McDougall, and Kelly (Dave) McDougall Hoffman; and a great grandson, Waylon Hoffman. A second great grandson, Dominick Anthony Hirsch, is due in October.

Joyce also is survived by her sister and best friend, Beverly Myers; brother Arthur (Marshelle) Myers; niece Diane (Lou) Giraldo; great niece Carly (Tim) Giraldo Kane; and many other family and friends. Finally, she is survived by her beloved, spoiled dog, Mackenzie (Mac).

Joyce’s last move among the living was one of her favorites: preparing to take Mac for a morning walk in her Leonardo neighborhood, where they would stroll the beach and stop to chat with a number of friends. She did this no matter the weather; no matter how she felt. A lion, and a lamb.

In lieu of flowers, Joyce would love it if you put your money toward any facility that provides animal rescue and care.

Services are entrusted to Jersey Shore Cremation, 43 Taylor Avenue, Manasquan, NJ.