In 1959, at the age of 7 and dressed in cowboy gear, I was put on a plane to make the long trip alone from Albuquerque to England. It was to be the first of many wonderful summers that I spent with my Aunt Joyce, Uncle Bernie and Cousin Justin. I remember those times as some of the best in my life - beautiful English summers, spent playing in gardens or on the beach, or visiting Wales. The Tunstalls became my second family, in part because of Bernie’s kindness and Justin’s companionship, but especially because of Joyce’s mothering and the powerful love between her and my mother, Vera Richards. They were devoted sisters. They were close to their brothers George and Maurice too, and even when the Richards siblings lived on different continents the love and connection were clear. They lived through hard times, from tough pre-war years, through the Blitz, and the difficulties of motherhood, facing each with stoicism and good cheer as best they could. But the times that I remember are the good times, those childhood days and, later, innumerable parties and pleasant gatherings. The last time I saw Joyce was at what was perhaps the happiest of all of those celebrations – Justin and Katy’s wedding. Joyce looked so frail, but I knew that inside she was deeply joyful and so happy for Justin. Joyce was the merry heart of the Richards family and I will miss her every day. But to me her passing is more than the end of a single life, it is the passing of the last of the Richards clan, modest but true members of that “greatest generation”. I am so thankful to have been part of this family. All my love to Bernie, Justin and Katy. Tim (Crosse)

Thank you for setting up this memorial to Joyce Tunstall. We hope that you find it a positive experience developing the site and that it becomes a place of comfort and inspiration for you to visit whenever you want or need to.

I am I and you are you, whatever we were to each other that we still are. Speak to me in the easy way which you always used. Why should I be out of mind because I am out of sight? Life means all that it ever meant, it is the same as it ever was.