Obituary of Jonique Leslie Garcia

The Story of My Mom – Joan Leslie Webb (later known as Jonique Leslie Garcia) February 17, 1945 – April 4, 2025 My mom, Joan Leslie Webb, was born on February 17, 1945, in Chicago, Illinois, to Frederick Webb and Dorothy Buechel. She came from a long line of resilient, pioneering people, with roots tracing back to Mayflower ancestors. That legacy of strength, independence, and perseverance wasn’t just part of her history—it was something she carried forward in everything she did. She was the youngest of three daughters and shared a lifelong, loving bond with her sisters, Barbara and Marilyn Webb. Raised in a traditional household steeped in formality and refinement, my mom grew up in a world shaped by both drive and elegance. Her father, despite having only an eighth-grade education, built a successful Hollywood production company through sheer vision and determination. That grit—his refusal to be limited by circumstance—left a lasting impression on her and became a blueprint for how she moved through the world: bold, self-made, and unwavering in her belief that anything was possible. Her mother, equally poised and polished, presented herself each evening in heels and stockings as she served dinner—a portrait of grace and refined femininity. That dual legacy of ambition and elegance helped define my mom’s aesthetic and spirit—but she made it entirely her own. From an early age, she gravitated not just toward style, but toward glamour. She attended Uni High School and the Hollywood Professional School in West Los Angeles, where her confidence and charisma stood out just as much as her beauty. It came as no surprise when she began modeling—she was captivating, both in appearance and spirit. But what made her truly unforgettable was her presence. She had that rare blend of allure, wit, and warmth that lingered with people long after she’d gone. In 1963, at the age of 18, she married my father, Stephen Barnard, a pilot in training. That same year, she gave birth to my brother, Michael Davis, and three years later, in 1966, I was born—Christine Dale. When my father became a cargo plane pilot, we moved to Alaska as a young family. It was a major transition for my mom—one filled with challenges, distance from her roots, and unfamiliar surroundings. But she met it with quiet determination and grace, creating a life for us and adapting with the strength that would come to define her. We eventually returned to California, where my dad joined the LAPD. Though their marriage ended in 1971, my parents remained united in their commitment to raising us. Their partnership as co-parents was grounded in mutual respect and love for family, and that unity made our lives richer. In 1970, just before their divorce, my mom lost her father at the age of 58. She was only 26 at the time. Then, in 1977, her mother passed away at 67. Losing both of her parents by the age of 32 left an emotional mark, but even through deep grief, she remained a steadfast and devoted mother. She never left her love unspoken. She showed up for us with presence, warmth, and a strength that was both steady and full of heart. No matter what she was carrying, we never had to wonder if we were loved. Later in life, Mom stepped even more fully into the woman she had always been at her core—bold, glamorous, creative, and entirely original. She adopted the name Jonique, a name she chose for herself that reflected her elegance, individuality, and signature sense of glamour. It wasn’t just a name—it became a statement of identity. With it, she launched her own makeup line, also called Jonique. Long before beauty brands became a cultural trend, she had already envisioned one of her own. She had a natural eye for what was coming next—especially in beauty and medical aesthetics. She could see which procedures, products, and technologies would go mainstream long before others caught on. She wasn’t chasing trends—she was the trend, quietly and confidently. But for her, it was never just about beauty. It was about helping people reconnect with the most radiant version of themselves. She believed in transformation, not to become someone new, but to rediscover the brilliance that had always been there. Everything she created was personal, intentional, and deeply authentic. In 1984, Mom married Dr. William “Bill” Garcia, an anesthesiologist with three children—Caron, David, and Stephanie. She embraced her new role as a wife, stepmother, and later step-grandmother, with the same devotion and heart that defined every part of who she was. She poured love into their blended family with warmth, care, and a genuine desire to connect. For her, it was never about obligation—it was always about love. She made space for everyone and nurtured those relationships with intention and generosity. In 2009, after nearly 25 years of marriage, Bill passed away. It was a profound loss. But true to who she was, my mom persevered. She grieved, adapted, and carried on—still rooted in grace, still radiating beauty, and still giving of herself to others. Even as her health declined, she showed up for her friends and loved ones with unwavering kindness. She offered help without hesitation—even when quietly carrying burdens of her own. That quiet strength defined her. Beyond her beauty, brilliance, and boldness, Mom’s heart was one of her most defining qualities. She lived with deep compassion and an abiding love for others—family, friends, and strangers alike. She had a soft spot for animals, especially those in need, and was passionately committed to animal rescue. Whether it was adopting pets, supporting shelters, or simply caring for the strays that crossed her path, she never turned away from a creature in need. Her love was big, generous, and unshakable—and it touched lives in ways she never sought recognition for. My mom lived vividly, beautifully, and entirely on her own terms. Her presence was undeniable. When she walked into a room, everything felt brighter—more alive, more awake. She didn’t just light up a space; she changed its energy. Now that she’s gone, the absence is immense. It’s not just that she’s missing—it’s that something essential is missing. The kind of presence she had, the love she gave, and the way she made people feel simply can’t be replaced. Her loss is profound, and I feel it in ways I can’t always put into words. But the light she carried, the boldness she embodied, and the love she gave so freely live on in us. I see her in the way we comfort each other, in the way we show up for the people we love, in the beauty we continue to seek, and in the confidence we try to carry. She shaped who we are—gently, powerfully, and permanently. That part of her is still here—moving through us, shaping us, and continuing to make the world brighter and more loving than it would have been without her. Our family would like to express our deepest thanks to the incredible hospital and hospice staff who cared for Mom with such tenderness, respect, and dignity in her final days. We’re also profoundly grateful to her many loving friends—those who stood by her, reached out, showed up, and reminded her that she was cherished. If you’d like to honor her memory, please consider donating to an animal rescue organization, adopting a pet in need, or simply choosing love—love for animals, for friends, for strangers, and for each other. She would want us all to keep living and loving—in the same way she did. A Friday afternoon memorial will be held within the next month at Oakwood Memorial Cemetery in Chatsworth, California. The exact date and time will be shared as soon as they are confirmed. Mom is survived by her son, Michael Barnard; her daughter, me—Christine Barnard; her niece, Kathy Howard; her nephew, Ed “Teddy” Howard; her stepdaughters, Caron Martinez and Stephanie Garcia; her cherished grandchildren, Jessica Barnard, Justin Barnard, Alex Martinez, Peter Martinez, and Daniel Martinez, Mollie Cameron, Griffin Cameron; and her great-grandsons, Finn Cooper, Miles Martinez, and Calvin Martinez. She was preceded in death by her parents, Frederick Webb and Dorothy Buechel-Webb; her sisters, Barbara Webb and Marilyn Howard; her beloved husband, William “Bill” Garcia; and her stepson, David Garcia.