Mrs. Marie-Therese Manigat

A eulogy by Julian S. Martinez

If anyone were to ever ask me to sum up my grandmother in ten words or less, it wouldn’t be too hard to do so. It would be all too easy to say things like “she was a saint” or “the grandest and warmest woman I have ever known”. All of these things would be true, of course, but it almost feels like an insult to the depth of love, compassion and dedication she had for her family. To add and recycle these insipid clichés people say in times of hurt and loss would be the most unfair and cheapest eulogy one could write for someone who loved them so. So instead, I decided to borrow a page from Grandma’s euphemisms and internalize a five word phrase that she spoke to all of her grandchildren and meant it with such loving conviction that it will forever echo in the halls of our of our souls: “You need to eat more”.

Now, it’s easy to view this sentence for what it is: a statement that a person should consume their fill to be healthy and full. As a child, I used to always smile when my grandmother would tell me to eat more, even if I couldn’t stomach another bite. Her words to me, were a beacon of love that shone through the darkness I felt for so long; encouragement for me to “be me” and indulge in the feast that was prepared. Even when making a ruckus upstairs with my cousins and running through the house, grandma always found time to tell us to “stop making all that noise”, and shortly afterward would making us something to eat, probably to keep us occupied on something else. As I got older, I felt as though I could count on my grandmother to say “eat more” like the sun and moon would rise and set. After a period of time, I stopped listening, and began to feel as though her phrase was just something all grandmothers were obligated to say to their grandchildren. But then there came a day when she stopped saying the phrase; a day when she didn’t have the energy to say so. It was at that point I realized that a morning would come where she wouldn’t say anything at all, and I would lose one of the most influential people in my young life. Every moment I spent with her from then on was something special; from watching her complain about her blender to learning the secrets of how to make her beloved beef stew. Every hug and kiss, eternally etched into my soul, longing but one more time to see the robust, opinionated and most importantly loving matriarch who kept us all together for so long.

But now to the phrase “You need to eat more”. For anyone who knows me well, I spend a lot of time analyzing the world around me and its secrets and meanings, probably too much so. Her words, even now, weigh heavy with the magnitude of what I feel she was trying to tell us all. In my soul, her words were symbolic of the struggle, the dogma and credo that no one should ever be complacent and satisfied with who they are or what they are doing. Everyday is an opportunity to become something greater than you were the day before. Just when you think you’ve had your “fill”, you realize some time later, that you can handle more, you can consume more, you can DO more. I wish I understood her in my younger years; maybe some of the trials and tribulations I went through, as well as the rest of my family, would seem so slight and conquerable. In my soul, she wanted us to be the very best we all could be, and knew we come overcome anything, even her passing.

In short, she loved us all, with her entire being. I know that in her last moments, she found peace, and will continue to shine on all of us, waiting eagerly for the day we see her again, and can hear that wonderful, heavenly, and awe-inspiring sentence again: “You need to eat more.” You’re right, grandma. I will eat more, and I wont stop eating until I’ve made you proud. I love you. I will always love you, and can’t wait until we are all together again.

Your grandson, forever and always,

Ju.