Joyce Brainard

On May 1st, under a Montana sky wide enough to hold her spirit, Joyce Brainard, 63, left this world the way she lived in it-quietly, without fanfare, and utterly on her own terms. The youngest of five children born to Clarence and Eleanor Paul, she attended school at Long Beach State University where she double majored in Fine Arts and Art History. She later studied at the Fashion Institute of Design in Los Angeles, California. Joyce was a gifted artist who saw beauty in small things and quiet truths in everything. She traded palm trees for pine and never looked back.

Joyce was skilled in several artistic media forms evidenced by the exquisite detail in the quilts, jewelry and beadwork she crafted mostly during the long, cold, snowy winter months Montana is famous for. Her talented hands brought beauty to life and her eyes found worth in weathered antiques and stories of the land etched into the rusted artifacts that adorn the outbuildings on their land.

She loved Montana from the moment she stepped foot in Billings and lived the last and best part of her life on 20 acres of paradise in Bridger, Montana, surrounded by whispering pines and the animals who understood her better than most humans. Her soul was rooted in the mountains, especially the Bears Paw and her bond with the land was a sacred one she never took for granted. The deep green valleys, the northern lights, and the starry Montana sky were pieces of her. She never just lived on the land-she lived with it.

A red-headed force of nature and a proud domestic goddess, Joyce adored her husband Marc, who stood beside her through every season, and every storm. Her son Jake was her whole heart, her greatest treasure. Marc was her partner in all things-life, love, and serenity. Jake was her world, her masterpiece, her forever joy. She cherished him with a love that ran deeper than the valley she called home-fierce, tender, and proud beyond words. Jake was an only child, but Joyce and Marc made sure he never felt alone. Over the years, their house was home to so many of Jake's friends. Growing up, winters were some of their best times. Joyce and the boys spent hours sledding down hills on snow packed trails and homemade jumps until their cheeks were red and their gloves soaked through. Snowball fights were always more fun and way more competitive when it was Joyce against the boys! Some of their favorite days were spent in the Bears Paw Mountains, hiking up through quiet pine stands to find the best spot for target shooting or searching out pesky gopher towns. Marc called her Annie Oakley and all the boys marveled at her shooting skills. She protected her own with the quiet ferocity of a mother bear and defended them gracefully, lovingly, and without regret. To be loved by her was to be loved unconditionally.

Even in death, she gave. Through organ, tissue, and cornea donation, she left behind light in the darkness-gifting strangers the ability to see, to heal, and to live. It was an act of grace, offered without hesitation or need for recognition. That's just who she was: no wasted words, no wasted time, no wasted chance to make a difference.

Joyce leaves behind a world that didn't always deserve her, but is better for having had her. The animals will miss her, the trees will notice, and those lucky enough to have loved her and been loved by her, will never be the same.

If you want to honor her, skip the flowers. Instead-share your truth. Love wholly and gently, take care of the animals, protect the people you love, speak less, mean more. And for the love of everything ... be kind..

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