Joann Gray

My Mom, JoAnn Gray, better known as Aunt Joni, Grandma Joni, star traveler, fisherman, and for my Dad, the best supporter ever, closed her eyes for the last time early in the morning January 9th.
Although my mom has been drifting more and more away from us, we were still tightly holding on, even when she wasn’t able to know it. My Mom, with my Dad constantly by her side has been battling Alzheimer’s for many years. The things she loved the most were taken from her first. Her love and expertise for cooking and sewing became more and more challenging until she couldn’t do them anymore. Traveling and fishing became more perilous as her memory, balance and behavior became less and less like her. I became just the girl that brought her dogs over and my boys became interchangeable as she called them by each other’s names. For awhile she lost track of who my Dad was and then as time went on, she seemed to realize he was still the safe zone, no matter who she thought he was. She was smart, tough, stubborn and brave, but no match for this mind crippling disease.
Born November 9, 1933, near Keenesburg, CO, to Minnie Williams and Dwight C Williams, a very proud World War I vet. She was one of 5 children. She later moved to Denver with her family and graduated from North High.
Joann married my dad Alvin Gray at 17 and they moved to San Antonio TX in 1951. While they resided there, she was a supportive military wife for 4 years.
When they moved back to Colorado, my Mom who was a self- taught, wildly fast typist, worked in the personnel office at the University of CO helping put my Dad through college. While they lived in Boulder, they were blessed with a boy, Timmy (1961) and a girl Shelley (1964).
They resided in Boulder until 1968 when my Dad was transferred to run the NOAA station at Elmendorf Air Force Base in Anchorage. They packed up a new Suburban and took on the Alaska highway in late December before it was even paved. Completely trusting my Dad, my Mom didn’t even blink at the idea. They made it through the snow, ice and freezing temperatures in 11 days.
Alaska was still literally the “last frontier” then, and my Dad was set on us seeing as much as we could, as often as we could, so we spent our weekends and vacations always exploring and fishing the endless rivers and landscapes of Alaska. We lived out of the same Suburban we came in, camping and fishing in areas that had never been traveled by the public. My Dad, realizing we could not drive to the best and scariest fishing holes, bought a 22-foot riverboat, with a jet motor that would literally run in any depth of deep water, and in as little as an inch. We fished the Chena, Moose, Kenai, Russian River, Susitna, Gulkana, Talkeetna, Klutina, and many more, over and over again, and also spent hours digging clams on Clam Beach, at Cook Inlet. Quietly my Mom sharpened her fishing skills, becoming more a savvy partner than just the supporter.
When we moved from Alaska back to CO in 1972, we took the better part of a summer for the trip, sharing a small travel trailer with a beloved friend and his two small children that had lost their mom/wife to cancer. Then we lived in that same small travel trailer in the family friend’s back yard for several months. My Mom simply adjusted to every new adventure my Dad thought up.
My Dad remained Chief Engineer for the Space Environment lab in Anchorage, and my parents traveled back to Alaska 5 other summers so my Dad could work, and they spent even more time just together exploring, camping and fishing. There were also many, many fishing trips in Colorado, AZ, WY, NV, TX and New Mexico. Always spending lots of good times with family and friends.
Once my Dad retired from NOAA in 1984, and while he still worked part-time for them, he was also traveling the Equator, building and installing doppler radar antennas for the University of CO for 11 years. My mom kept their home and animals happy and well fed on her own.
My Dad always kept and raised several horses for fun, once having as many as 8. He also kept a small herd of cows and calves, so that us kids could learn how to take care of them, but mostly because he loved them. My Mom was alright, with the occasional sick calf in the bathroom, the endless hours of fence maintenance and feeding, as long as she was not called upon too much, and they were not allowed to roam freely in her yard.
My Mom was not a hunter, but she cooked for weeks before, so my Dad had amazing food, and plenty to share with all who came. A meticulous hostess, our holiday dinners were set in a beautifully decorated home, and my Mom served the best food, to the best company and was always the best hostess.
My Mom was a friend to all, but her world was her home and her family. My brother is handicapped so we always kept him close, but I was much harder to catch and corral. As I flew out the door every morning, and having almost nothing in common with my Mom, it was much harder for me to see her value until very late in my teenage years. Mostly she let me go, but there were many stern lessons in ladylike behavior between my escapes, that although a bit rough at the time, I am so thankful she taught me respect, and to behave with grace and be gracious. It was through all of this I realized she was really the best friend I could want, and she has always been that for me.
As my Mom lost touch it was harder to know how she was feeling or what she was thinking. We know she enjoyed this last Christmas with all the kids, dogs and commotion that goes with our family gatherings. Although my Mom had not been able to walk freely for many months, she unexpectedly got out of her chair and walked 10 or 12 feet to join me in the kitchen while I was doing dishes and later seemed to want to help with our gingerbread houses. As she touched all the candies, we watched in wonderment, missing her more and more.
The years, and especially the last year has been tough on us all, but way more for my Dad than any of us. Through it all my Dad held strong and steady. Caring for my Mom when she couldn’t care for herself, always holding her hand, kissing her forehead, talking with her, even though she didn’t respond, so that she would know she was loved and not alone. I know even though she was slowly being trapped away in her mind, and she hated where she was, she always knew he was there for her, and would randomly surprise us with a laugh or response to a story he was telling.
We feel her loss at every turn, but thankfully for my Dad, Luke and his wife Andrea, she was never alone as she drifted, sometimes knowing we were there, sometimes just lost. We are thankful and blessed that she was home safe in her bed with my Dad by her side when she passed, and I will always believe she is watching over us as she fishes the best fishing holes, and cooks the best food with the loved ones that were waiting there for her.

JoAnn is survived by her loving husband, Alvin; children, Timmy Gray and Shelley Diede; siblings, Sharon Kay of Jackson Wy; grandchildren, Luke Diede (Andrea) of Berthoud, CO, Lee Diede (Jennifer) of Evans, CO, Kalyn Diede (Jessica) of Mead, CO and Shelby McNamee (Trevor) of Burns, WY. She was preceded in death by her siblings, Glenroy Williams, Alvin Williams and Willetta Sargent. Contributions may be made to Alzheimer’s Research.