My Grandmother Martin

My beloved Grandma Martin holding my baby sister Carol.  This picture was most likely taken in 1957.

She was the one.  The one who stands out.  The one whose unconditional love and kindness will light my life forever.

Versie Martin grew up in Texas.  If she had an accent, I don't remember it.  She had a tender, kind voice, with a slight rasp.  I remember it to this day.  Sometimes I hear it as clearly if she is talking to me.

She married a welder from California.  His name was Earl Martin.  He helped build the Eastern Panhandle pipeline. They moved every few years as the pipeline was built.  They had two children, Peggy Marie (my mother) and Gayle.  They finally would up in Michigan shortly after the time my mother was getting out of high school.

Earl was not a kind man.  He had little positive relationship with his daughters.  He drank a lot.  To my knowledge, he was not physically abusive, but he was neglectful, and somewhat verbally abusive.  My Grandmother was the glue and the love that held the family together.

We went to their lake cottage often.  It was where I developed my love for comics and science fiction.  She didn't shower us with gifts.  She showered us with love.  Whatever reason, I remember the times with her as the times my imagination and creative abilities began to explode.

She would read stories to us.  She would listen to my stories.  She would hold me when I cried.  She never judged me harshly.  She fixed wonderful food, and always had a smile for us.  She was my Grandmother, my strong anchor.

In the great tradition of not reinventing the wheel, here are some portions of a story called Summer of '67:

Summer 67...we had to rush home early from our Kentucky vacation because my beloved Grandma Martin was hospitalized with a return of a cancer that we thought she had beat. The doctors only gave her two months to live. I was determined to do whatever I could to prevent that.

I knew the power of prayer and positive thinking could change things. I prayed, I read the bible, I was as good as I could be, I did everything methodically and ritualistically. All in my belief that a miracle could occur.

Hospital rules must have been different then. I only remember getting to see Grandma Martin once while she was there. She said so you want to be an actor? I said no a lawyer. She said it didn't matter. What was important was to be polite, respectful and caring in whatever I did. And to the best of my ability, even with being bone shy, I have always tried to do that.

Grandma Martin got two months. To the day. Not one day less or more. Fair or not, this would put a major wedge between me and faith in religion for many years to come.

There was an outdoor luncheon after the funeral. That was the part that disturbed me most. My Grandmother had just died, and people were using it as an excuse for a social get together. It seemed like people were laughing and talking about anything but Grandma. I didn't understand. But as I've gotten older I have come to a better acceptance of this. Everybody grieves in different ways.

This all happened a long time ago, but I will always remember her genteel spirit and unconditional love, and I like to think that is an important part of what positive traits I have.

Maybe had she lived longer, my attitude would be different.  Maybe as a snotty, self-important teen, I would have discovered flaws in her character, or things that would just diminish her priority in my life.  Maybe, but I don't think so.  

It is something to keep in mind, though, as my son, who is 12, copes with the loss of his Grandfather.  There may be things he is going through and experiencing that I have not fully appreciated.  He has been crying lately, unexpectedly, over small things.  I need to renew my sensitivity to this.

I think the ones you lose around this time of life, those pre-teen and early teen years, stick with you the rest of your life.

I do not believe in ghosts.  I do not talk to the dead.  But sometimes, I do have to admit, I still hear her voice.  And it is, as always, kind and caring and loving.

 I will always remember and cherish you, Versie Martin.