Grandpa, I miss you so much it hurts. I still reach for the phone to call you almost everyday and then remember you're gone. It is still so shocking that you are no longer a part of this world with us, but I am thankful for the many times you have visited me in my dreams. Please keep visiting, I love you so much!

Grandpa, thank you for being a part of my everyday life.  I think of you everyday and miss you all the time.  You've been with me my whole life, it's really hard that you're gone.  Thanks for everything.  I hold tons of great memories of you in my heart.  I love you and miss you.

I always considered myself the luckiest of all the grandchildren. I was first. Therefore, I had them longer. However, we were all lucky in that we had TWO sets of parents.  Our grandparents were like a second Mom and Dad to us.

I remember being excited to spend the night over my Grandma and Grandpa's house.  We would have apple pie and we would watch TV - The Carol Burnett Show and Love American Style - a young me between a young them, on the couch.

It is difficult for me to talk about my Grandpa without including my Grandma. With the exception of the past 15 years, they have always been a unit in my mind.

As a child, I recall my Grandpa being silly with me. I would sit on the couch in the living room watching whatever kid show was on at that time in the 60's. My Grandpa would walk by, stopping and singing one of those songs from the 1940's while performing a silly dance made up just for me. He always got the giggles he was looking for.

As an older child, I remember family gatherings at the house. There were so many of us, and often I would see new faces that I was related to in one way or another. In the midst of these many gatherings, I recall there being "discussions" between an uncle or a cousin or two uncles, or some combination of family.  These exchanges were sometimes passionate. They were always located in the same place - the kitchen.  Two or more relatives (usually men) in a heated argument about something I didn't understand. They would stand at the kitchen counter, semi-yelling, pointing fingers in faces with glass in hand containing the velvety, brown liquid that was so familiar to all of us kids.  My Grandpa was included in the duo or trio, but didn't argue. He listened and every so often spoke a quiet word. He turned the anger into laughter. I never realized that my Grandpa was so diplomatic.

I had always heard about my Grandpa's military service. I knew where the US Army sent him, but very little about what he did. It wasn't until I was much older, with kids of my own, that I was able to understand what it meant to be a medic in WWII in the jungles of Burma. It wasn't until I was older that I discovered that a soldier was chosen to perform this special task. There were many factors of course - previous experience, medical training, and temperament.  I'm certain the last quality is why my Grandpa was chosen. It was when I learned this that I thought back on those kitchen "discussions" and the way my Grandpa kept his cool. It was this special quality that endeared him to me. It was a way for me to see him as a man and not just as my Grandfather.  

After Grandma died, I watched as he adjusted and changed and moved forward. He took lemons and made lemonade. A quality I aspire to have. Thank you Grandpa.

The last memory Jacob, Olivia and I have of Papa Jay is quite special. On the Saturday evening before he passed away, some of the family went to his house to eat and play his favorite activity ... BINGO! The kids were excited to play, but Papa Jay for some reason did not want to. We started the game without him, but strategically had Olivia sit by him so he could "help her out." After a few minutes passed, Olivia was getting some pointers from her great grandpa, just as planned. Not long after, we offered him a playing card and dotter ... and he was in the game! He had a smile on his face and even won a round. He continued helping Olivia out while Jacob called out the numbers. The night was filled with laughter and unforgettable memories. I am so happy the kids got to play BINGO with their great grandpa one last time. We love you Papa Jay!

I remember when I was very young, about 4 or 5 years old, my grandpa used to do something I hated at the time, but found quite hilarious when I thought about it later in life. 

Grandpa's chair has always been in that same spot. He would, on occasion, call me over to his chair while he was watching TV. "Jon Jon, come over here for a second," he would say. So I would stop playing with my Tonka trucks or my G.I. Joes and walk over to him. He would then proceed to pin my arms to my side, smile, and say something like, "Try to get away." Everyone knows how big Grandpa was in the 1970s, so it goes without saying that my scrawny little 60 or so pounds didn't stand a chance. I would struggle and kick and finally come to tears, but he still wouldn't let go. My Grandma would then come to my rescue, yelling at Grandpa in Spanish. He would then bark back (also in Spanish), and they would go back and forth until he finally let me go. This scenario happened time and time again. I guess I was just too young to figure out what was coming when he called me over to his chair.

The funny thing is, years later, I found myself doing the exact same thing to my son. I realized there was nothing mean or cruel about this. It's just something grandfathers and fathers do with their sons. It toughens us up ... helps us grow up to be strong.

As I think about this memory of my grandpa, I wonder what kind of fun little pranks my son Jake will do to toughen up his son. Perhaps he will carry on the tradition of pinning his son's arms to his side (as his wife yells at him). Only time will tell...

My fondest memory of Grandpa is being a little kid going to visit for the weekend and staying over. Everyone was scared to sleep in the back room, but I use to love it!  the coldness, the old couch. It was all good then, knowing Grandpa was there. Shoot, I had nothing to worry about!

One memory that stands out for me about Dad is when I received my military draft notice. Dad took me around to all my creditors. We were standing in front of Sopps Chevrolet when he asked me this question and we never spoke of it again. He asked me if I really wanted to go into the service. He said he knew I had a government contract and that I could get out of serving. I answered, "Dad, you did it. Now it's my turn."  He grabbed me and hugged me, and told me how proud he was.

Dad knew a lot of things about each of us that we all thought he knew nothing of.

When I think about Dad and my life with him, I realize that he was the one who taught me about life and its responsibilities. I didn't realize it while growing up, but as I sit here thinking of him, holding back my tears and sadness, all these things come to mind. They are simple things, but they are the ones that shaped my life. Many of them were not spoken as he was a quiet man, but they were shown to me by his actions. He taught me to never give up; to respect what you have and what you don't have; never be envious; have commitment;  and enjoy the things in life that are given to you. These life lessons become much more meaningful now because this is how I have tried to live my life. 

When you think about it, one could say, Well everyone says this! But everyone was not Dad!

My Broken Heart
by granddaughter Taylor Johnson-Avila

A dad, a grandfather, a hero, a friend,
You were all those things until the end.
It's still hard to imagine how life will be,
My future, my children, all the things you'll never see.

You took a piece of my heart the morning you passed,
Leaving a scathing wound that is sure to last.
My days have been dark, my nights full of tears, 
But forgetting your voice is my biggest fear.

My last night home during Christmas, you were feeling sick.
You rushed home before dinner, it all happened so quick.
I didn't give you a proper kiss or hug, or walk you to your car.
I thought I'd for sure see you soon, my biggest regret so far. 

Soon after, you got sick. It shook our family to its core.
We thought it was only pneumonia, but when it rains, it's sure to pour.
The heart attack, the cancer; we could see you were scared,
And so were we. To tell the truth, no fear even compared.

A fear of losing our family's rock, the strongest man we knew,
A fear of seeing you in pain, but you never let the pain shine through.
I came to visit you for the last time; we talked, and sat in the sun and laughed.
I fed you chocolates behind mom's back, and played you music while you napped.

Those last three days weighed heavy on my mind,
Even though they were great, I couldn't be blind.
But I took those days for what they were, 
My last memories with you, a perfect blur.

As I left, I hugged and kissed you, our hug longer than any before,
And I cried the whole plane ride home, your sickness I could no longer ignore.
Living a thousand miles away only made things worse,
But I called and talked and told you I loved you, wishing time could reverse.

I didn't call for about a week, I had no good excuse.
If I knew then what I know now; I would've put my phone to use.
I'll never forget the early morning call, telling me you were gone.
I sat on the bed in disbelief, slowly becoming withdrawn.

Crying, laughing, reminiscing, the distant sound of Taps,
It all just went by so fast, time slipping through our grasp.
One last kiss, cold as ice, last hug went unreciprocated,
But nothing compared to the heart-wrenching pain, as I watched them close your casket lid.

I couldn't believe it was over like that! Time wasn't standing still?
Maybe with time and lots of prayers, my broken heart will heal.

Where do I begin? I can say so many wonderful things about this amazing man who raised my husband. Thank you for being such a great role model! Because of you, Johnny is the man he is ...  an amazing husband, a terrific father and grandfather, a wonderful provider, and one of the kindest people one could ever know. He followed your example to the letter!

I met you when I was only 17 years old, and I officially became a member of the Martinez family when I was just 19. From the beginning, you and Sally welcomed me into your family and always treated me as if I was one of your own daughters. I loved you both like you were my parents, and I will be forever grateful that 54 years ago God led me to this family. I am blessed for knowing you and for sharing the majority of my life as a member of the Martinez family.

Papa Jay, you were and will always remain one of my favorite and most admired people. I will miss our weekly breakfasts. I will miss you at our family gatherings. I will miss getting your room ready for our family New Year's Eve sleepovers. I will miss the glow in my grandchildren's eyes whenever they saw you. I will miss hearing you call me Mija when you hung up the phone from my calls. I will miss just knowing you are in the world! You are the best father, grandfather, great grandfather, and father-in-law anyone could hope to have!

There are a few things that stand out in my mind when I think of my Grandpa. He would always take us to the liquor store around the corner from his house to get popsicles, and whenever we stayed over in the summer, Grandpa would make sure the heladero man would stop so he could get us an ice cream. But the memory that will always mean the most to me was seeing him at my baseball games.  He was there to watch me all the way from t-ball to college. He somehow always made time to be there.

My grandmother's kitchen was and still is yellow. She has always had delicate, white curtains hanging in her windows. There is a big, old tree in the front yard that provides shade to the dining area. The shade from that tree kept the kitchen cool and inviting. My grandma's kitchen smelled good. It almost always did. And it was warm. Not temperature warm, family warm.

I remember one evening and we were in that kitchen. I really can't remember the year but it must have been in the early 90s because my son was there and my grandma had not yet passed. We had just had dinner. I remember looking for dish soap. Since it wasn't on the windowsill or to the left of the sink,  I figured it must be in the cupboard below. I opened the door and peered inside. It was dark and I didn't see anything right away, so I crouched down and looked harder. 

All of a sudden I saw something and it took me back. It was years earlier, before my boy, before my parent's divorce, when everything was different but the kitchen was almost exactly the same. The same shadows fell on the wall. The curtains were similar, probably the same. The butcher block table with the brown vinyl chairs and yellow legs was in the very same spot. I was different though, younger, maybe 3 or 4. I was sitting at the table. It must have been spring or summer because although I don't remember what I was wearing , I remember my skinny little legs sticking to the vinyl chair. The sound of a car, my grandpa's big ol' Toronado, pulling into the driveway caused me to shift in my seat. I turned toward the door and waited for him to walk in. Grandpa Jay. He was home from work. He wore dark work pants and a white tee shirt. His work shirt was flung over his arm. His brownish, hazel eyes were as beautiful as ever and his face was serious. His hair was black and almost silky. When you hugged him you could smell his pomade. If you check his medicine cabinet, it's probably still there.  

My grandpa had a routine. He did the same thing every day when he got home from work, before he kissed my grandma, before he hugged me. It wasn't rude, it was just his way. A routine. He would walk in and go straight towards the kitchen sink. He would reach up into the cupboard to the left of the sink and pull out a small glass. It was the same glass every time. I loved that glass. It was so pretty. It was short and fat. The color was beautiful to me. It was a dark, grayish, silvery color and it gradually lightened in color until it became clear glass. After grabbing his glass he would reach into the very same cupboard that, years later, I would be looking into.

Grandpa, what's that? I asked. It's my medicine. he replied. For what? Are you sick?     No mija. It keeps me healthy and strong. he answered. Oh. Can I have some? No! he said sternly. Then, in a softer tone, Maybe when you are older.

His medicine kept him healthy and strong, but he wouldn't share. At least not with me. In my little girl eyes, my grandpa would always be healthy and strong. Like a good little girl takes her medicine to get better, my big, strong grandpa took his to stay well. It was Jack Daniels. A clear bottle with that famous black and white label, filled with a brown liquid, and I was staring right at it. It had been maybe 15 years since that conversation in my grandma's kitchen, and I was finally making the connection. To be honest, it was a memory I had forgotten until that moment. It has become one of my fondest memories since. 

I have tons of memories of my Grandpa Jay, a picture in my head of some scene, a scrap of conversation, even a song or two. Until I made that connection, this was just another. Then it changed. Staring into that cupboard behind the Palmolive, in front of an empty glass vase, that bottle of Jack Daniels made me smile. It was in no way a life altering moment. There was no profound effect on my future. It didn't change my view of the world, or my outlook on life. It didn't have any negative effect on my opinion of my grandfather. It just made me hold onto that memory just a little tighter. It made me smile. It still makes me smile. 

My grandpa is still with us. He is still healthy and strong. We've had a couple health scares. One was in the 90s. Cancer. He beat that and our family felt blessed. Another, more recently. He had a problem with his blood sugar and a change in medications. Luckily for our family, he received almost immediate medical attention and once again, we felt blessed. We will be celebrating his 90th birthday in a couple of weeks. Family and friends will come together to enjoy some of the things he enjoys most. There will be food, drinks, mariachis, bingo, friends and family. Oh, and stories. I am sure there will be plenty of stories. Maybe I will even share mine. Or maybe I will continue to keep it just for me. Either way, it will remain special.

Written in March 2013 by granddaughter Gina Camacho

There are so many great memories of Papa Jay. A few memories from my childhood are spending weekends with Papa Jay and Grandma Sally; staying up late with them to watch TV.  I also remember driving with grandpa to pick up Grandma Sally from working late shifts at Clark's. I remember driving with grandpa in his truck and trying to change his AM radio station to FM, and he would say, "Don't change that radio!", which would make me laugh, every time. I remember going to Watts with our family and Papa Jay to visit cousins. Near sunset, the men would start a fire in the large tin trash cans. The adults would sit  around and talk, while us kids ran around Frankie and Terry's yard having the time of our lives.  Another childhood memory is receiving $5 McDonald's coupon booklets for Christmas, then graduating to a nice box of Whitman's chocolates after becoming a mother. That's when Azrael and Cualli inherited grandpa's $5 McDonald's gift cards for Christmas, every year.  Papa Jay was one of the most humble, soft spoken, gentle and loving men ever. He is missed and loved so much by our family, and I hope we are all able to live up to having the same family standards and traditions he did.

My best memory of my grandpa is one very simple.  I remember being very young, about 3.  And grandpa used to freak me out by pretending that he was going to drink the worm in his tequila bottle.  I used to get so scared when he'd do that...but I really liked it and looked forward to him doing it every time I saw him.  And he always did it.

I have lots of memories good and bad. But this one is special because it's probably the first time I communicated with my dad.  All through my youth dad always used my mom as sort of a "go between" to communicate with his daughters.  It was "Sally, tell Patsy her skirts too short; she has to change it;" or "Tell the girls to be home early;" or whatever ... it was always through mom. But this one time in 1989, I was going through some marital turmoil in my life. I was a mess! I remember talking to my mom on the phone crying and carrying on when she suddenly interrupted me and said, "Here, your daddy wants to talk to you." He came on the  phone. He told me how much he loved me and that he and my mom were there for me always and forever, and I could get through this...never belittling anyone. It was him and I. A moment I'll treasure forever!  I loved him so much, still do, and miss him.

Dad, you were a man of few words. I remember the times I would sneak out of the house. You suspected, but never caught me. Although, there was that one time I barely made it back through the window and under the covers before Patsy sleepishly got up to unlock the bedroom door. If only you had pulled back the covers you would have found me out. Instead the very next day you were found planting cactus bushes beneath my bedroom windows! They remain there to this day. What an impact this memory has made on my life. I can't say that I live by the "few word" method when it came to my kids, but there have been times I let them "stew" over night before I passed judgement on them. Thank you dad for modeling your wisdom. I love you, I miss you. You will always remain alive in my heart and memories.

i've been really missing you lately grandpa... i love you.
-g

To My Uncle Jay, There is not a memory of my life without you in it. You are truly going to be missed. You have always been there for my family and I want to thank you for that. I'm going to miss you but I know we will all be together again. I love you Uncle Jay

To Uncle Jay I will miss you and you will be forever in my heart. You are now reunited with your family we have lost. I will have so many memories of you. I love you always til we meet again. RIP Uncle Jay.

To my Uncle Jay, my mommy's older brother- May you rest with the Lord in Heaven - you are reunited with your loved ones who are there already. May your family find comfort in knowing they will see you again, no more tears, no more sickness. God Bless

MAY GOD GIVE YOU HIS PEACE THRU THIS DIFFICULT TIME. "UNCLE JAY" WAS A WONDERFUL MAN, SERVED HIS COUNTRY, LOVED HIS FAMILY SO MUCH. NOW HIS SOUL IS FINALLY AT PEACE.

May your hearts soon be filled with wonderful memories of joyful times together as you celebrate a life well lived.

OBITUARIO

Jesus Jay Reyes Martinez

17 marzo, 1923 – 11 marzo, 2015

Muestre su apoyo

Comparta Un Recuerdo

Comparta
Un Obituario

Obtenga actualizaciones

Servicios