Joan Radcliffe Walker completed her journey on earth in the early morning hours of 26 October 2024, passing in peaceful sleep in hospice care. She leaves her daughters Julie Sands Donaldson and Laurie Lysle Walker, her son Brian Browne Walker, three grandchildren, Dylan, Sofia, and Rebecca, and some very good friends.

Joan’s father departed this life when she was 16, so his influence dimmed with time, but the presence of her mother Cynthia Pace Radcliffe entertained and inspired her and remained, until Cincie died at 83, a constant companion and guiding star.

Bud Walker, her husband for 65 years, was the best man anyone could have been married to. Bud died in January 2017.

Not what she attained, but what she learned, motivated Joan’s steps throughout her life: from an emancipated childhood she learned freedom to explore, to mingle, and to fraternize.

From scarcity in her teens she learned to improvise and plan.

From industry in her 20’s, she learned to triumph over difficulties and excel.

From her observation of discrimination and inequities, she realized an ability to access her own powers to intercede for others successfully.

From maturation she learned where her true talents lay, and from living to 99 she learned patience and a peaceful acceptance of life.

In the sum of these lessons she found joy, humor, humility, and gratitude. Life contained hope and purpose to the end.

Rest in peace, Joan, you have lived an exceptional life.

🪷

Almost nine years ago, my mother and I sat down at the only dining room table that I’ve ever known in my parents’ home and wrote my father’s obituary together. Soon after, without my knowing about it, she wrote her own. Years later, she gave it to me, and I have carried it with me since. Almost every word of what lies above was written by its subject. 

What I said about my father in italics at the end of his obituary was

It is

a signal honor when

the best man one has ever known,

the best friend one has ever had, and

one’s own father are one and the

same man. I love you,

Papa, always and

forever.

Change the gender, and what I have to say here is the same — not identical, because they weren’t, but of a feather, as they were. It’s not a sack race, of course. It’s the greatest thing that ever happened to me: I am the son of Bud and Joan Walker.