Grace Wyatt

Grace Elizabeth “Libby” Wyatt

August 13, 1954 – September 12, 2026

Grace Elizabeth “Libby” Wyatt passed away on September 12, 2026, surrounded by the family she loved so deeply. She was 72 years old.

Born Grace Elizabeth Joyce on August 13, 1954, in Charleston, Mississippi, Libby was the daughter of Pete and Dorothy Joyce.

Libby’s life was built around family. She was a mother, grandmother, great-grandmother, sister, and friend, but more than any title, she was the person her family could always count on. She showed up. She listened. She worried. She celebrated. She loved without hesitation.

She had two sons, ten grandchildren, and nine great-grandchildren, and somehow managed to make each one believe they were her favorite. It became a family joke because everyone was certain the title belonged to them. Libby never settled the argument. She would just smile and let everyone keep believing it.

That was one of her gifts.

She had a way of making people feel seen, important, and loved.

There was never a bad time to call her. Her children knew that no matter the hour, she would answer the phone. Whether someone needed advice, reassurance, a laugh, or simply needed to hear her voice, Libby was there.

She was fiercely proud of her family. Their accomplishments mattered to her. Their struggles mattered to her. Their happiness mattered to her. She encouraged them, defended them, worried about them, and made certain they always knew how much they were loved.

Libby believed in loving people openly. In her world, strangers did not stay strangers very long, a hug meant more than a handshake, and if you had the chance to make someone you loved happy, you did it.

Those were not simply things she said. They were the way she lived.

Her family will carry those lessons forward: love harder, give freely, show up for one another, and never assume the people you love already know how much they mean to you.

Libby also knew what it meant to fight.

Years after surviving lung cancer, she continued to face serious health challenges with a strength that often made it difficult to see just how much she was enduring. She carried more than many people realized, but even during the hardest seasons, her attention remained on her family.

Nothing brought her more happiness than seeing her children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren. Even near the end of her life, their presence brought her comfort and joy.

Libby was preceded in death by her parents, Pete and Dorothy Joyce; her sister, Linda Poe; and her beloved grandson, Dallas Lowry.

She is survived by her sons, Michael Lowry and his wife, Natasha, and Scott F. Lowry and his wife, Lacy; her brothers, Ronnie Joyce and Tommy Joyce; and her sisters, Connie Joyce and Patsy Wilbanks.

She was the proud grandmother of ten grandchildren: Dallas Lowry, Austin Lowry, Dustin Lowry, Haley Bradbury, Brayden Lowry, Stephen Lowry, Boston Lowry, Nathan Ediger, Mayday Lowry, and Michael Lowry.

Dallas passed before his grandmother, but he never stopped being one of her ten grandchildren and never stopped holding a place in her heart.

Libby was also blessed with nine great-grandchildren: Theo Lowry, Nash Lowry, Peyton Lowry, Kinsley Lowry, Presley Bradbury, Miles Bradbury, Crew Bradbury, Mason Ediger, and Eliza Ediger.

Her family finds comfort in imagining what awaited her on the other side: seeing Dallas again, dancing with him, talking with Mamaw, laughing with Pawpaw, and being reunited with those she had missed for so long.

Libby left this world at 12:12.

For her family, that time will forever carry meaning.

Right now, 12:12 marks the moment everything changed. But in time, perhaps it can also become something more—a quiet reminder to stop for a moment, think of Libby, remember her voice, remember her smile, and be grateful for the years they were blessed to have her.

There will be an emptiness without her.

There will be moments when someone instinctively reaches for the phone to call her. There will be holidays when her absence feels especially heavy. There will be stories someone cannot wait to tell her before remembering they cannot. There will be days when one more conversation, one more laugh, or one more hug would mean everything.

That is the cost of loving someone who became such a permanent part of your life.

But Libby’s story does not end at 12:12.

It continues in her sons.

It continues in her grandchildren and great-grandchildren.

It continues in her brothers and sisters, in the people she called friends, and in every person whose life was made better because Libby cared about them.

It continues every time someone chooses a hug instead of a handshake, makes the phone call, shows up when someone needs them, gives a little more than expected, or tells the people they love exactly how much they mean.

That is what Libby leaves behind.

A family that knew without question they were loved.

A lifetime of memories.

And a love strong enough to continue long after goodbye.

She was deeply loved.

She will be deeply missed.

And she will remain a part of her family for the rest of their lives.

12:12 — forever her time. Forever our reminder of her.