My Grandmother
by Eric J. Martel

All that she was
All that she is .
Who is and was my grandmother?
She was my refuge.
She was my faith.
She was my strength.

She taught me just where I came from and who I was.
She helped me in her own way to be me.

My strength was and is her.
There was an intangible way that my grandmother-meek but strong-drew me to follow.
She was never ashamed of where she came from or what she went through.
But in all of that was the strength.
All those loose little untidy strings
Were drawn together by her and woven into a beautiful tapestry
That made everything OK to be me.

In My FAITH she was always there, ever strengthening me.
My grandmother,
Mary B. Martel, teaching me not by words
But by example and action on how and what to have faith in.
It was almost as though I was a piece of film, time lapsed exposed
And imprinted forever with the rays of light that is my faith.

She was never bashful about the history and the things that
She and we had done as a family.
The colorful stories painted a vivid picture in my mind's eye
Of our family.

It gave me a rich understanding of my family
And who the Martels were and are.
Throughout time she was painting a history in my mind.
With her own gentile way as though an artist with
A soft feathery brush coloring the canvas of my mind,
Sometimes as though intuitive, about when to paint the next stroke of
Vivid color that would create a masterpiece of artistry called,

This masterpiece painted in the fabric of my soul will last me a lifetime.

My Grand Mother, Mary B. Martel