Remembering a Remarkable Grandma

Tribute to a true friend to plants and lover of trees

My grandma, Joan Murdock (nee Haynes), passed away on June 27, 2023.

My Aunt, Mom, Grandma and I at the Chicago Flower and Garden Show, March 2015

Grandma loved hostas and had numerous varieties alongside beautifully oversized Hydrangea bushes along her front walk. She often kept orchids on her kitchen counter, although she and my aunt sometimes struggled to get them to bloom. She knew so much about plants and gardening and always advised me whenever I was struggling with my container garden. She grew herbs, vegetables, and flowers on her deck, and I always loved going plant shopping with her and my mom and aunt at the beginning of the growing season.

She was one of my biggest supporters and loved reading absolutely everything I wrote. Whenever I would visit, she would tell me how much she loved my most recent writing and the stories I told about my grandfather on the other side of my family.

Grandma and I in Madison, Wisconsin, October 2009

She often said that learning about him through my posts made her wish she could have met my grandfather. They shared a deep love of plants, and she appreciated his creativity and artistry. I hope now they can finally meet and converse about their respective gardening exploits.

My family and I have dedicated a few tribute books in the Sterling Morton Library in remembrance of my grandma — The Hostapedia: An Encyclopedia of Hostas, by Mark R. Zilis, to reflect her love of hostas; Favorite Flowers in Color, by E.L.D. Seymour, which she had in her collection of gardening reference books for decades; and In and Out of the Garden, by Sara Midda, which was a present from my aunt to my grandma that contains beautiful illustrations that she loved. If you make a trip to the library at the Arboretum (which I always highly recommend), consider thumbing through the advice and beauty contained in these titles in her honor.

Grandma, her sisters, and her brother

I want to end by sharing the eulogy I wrote for my grandma and delivered after her funeral mass, which read:

Before I left home the last time I went to see Grandma, not knowing she would pass so quickly thereafter, I took a picture of my tomato plants so I could show her the progress they'd made since I last visited. I wasn't sure she'd be able to see it, and she wasn't able to, but I still told her about it. I mentioned to her that I’d considered bringing the first tomato off my plant for her to try, but mom had let me know she was no longer able to eat so I’d tasted it myself and was a little glad she couldn’t have tried it because it was too tart and definitely needed more time to ripen. I held her hand, told her about my tomatoes, played some James Taylor on my phone so she'd have something to listen to while we all sat with her. And then she passed, quietly, softly, giving herself to her angels.

She had a playful and creative spirit, something expressed when singing in beautiful harmony with her siblings, dabbling in art projects like macaroni angel ornaments and painting inarguably the best canvas at a wine and paint night, in the kitchen cooking for her family, and through her appreciation of and love for plants and gardening. Her way of seeing beauty in everything was inspiring to me throughout my life. I always valued her opinions and input; it still feels like I could call her for her thoughts on a recipe idea or for advice on my inevitably floundering vegetable garden, and she'd pick up the phone to deliver much-needed wisdom.

Grandma was caring, encouraging, and never hesitated to say "love you.” Her heart was dedicated to seeing her family content and fulfilled. She took so much joy in seeing her four grandchildren flourish and find happiness, and she was always there for me, even in my hardest moments. Whenever I was struggling, she would always tell me I was in her prayers, and more so than almost anyone else, she extended understanding and love any time I told her about something difficult I was going through. She never gave up on anyone and saw the very best in people. She taught me kindness and compassion. And faith, even though my interpretation of it differed from hers. She still loved hearing about the ways I was able to find faith in my own way.

On my 22nd birthday, during a particularly difficult time in my life, grandma wrote me a birthday card that I’ve kept in my bedside table ever since. She wrote that she’d been praying for me and that she wanted to share with me her prayer of faith that she’d been saying since she was a young girl, which reads:

God is my help in every need

God does my every hunger feed

God walks beside me, guides my way

Thru every moment of the day

I now am wise, I now am true

Patient, kind and loving too

All things I am, can do, and be

Thru God, The Truth, who lives in me

God is my health, I can’t be sick

God is my strength, unfailing, quick

God is my all, I know no fear

Since God, and Love, and Truth are here!

Grandma, we'll miss your kindness and your hugs. Your encouraging words and advice. The harmonies you'd add to every song, your warmth and love.

You often said to me you believed you had angels on your shoulder watching over you, and as painful as it is that you're gone from this plane, I know now I have an angel on my shoulder watching over me, too. Grief is the cost for loving one another so deeply, and my grief, and the grief of everyone present today, is a testament to how deeply we all loved you.

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