Martin J. Price Jr.

A quiet strength, a weathered face,

Not carved from stone, nor crowned in gold,

But built from love and stories told.

His hands bore marks of years well spent—

Of work, of care, of kindness lent.

They fixed, they held, they gave, they stayed,

Through sunlit joys and debts life paid.

He was not one to boast or claim,

No need for glory, praise, or fame,

Yet in the lives he shaped each day,

His legacy will never fade away.

A father, brother, partner, friend,

The kind of man you could depend,

Whose laughter filled the quiet room,

Whose presence chased away the gloom.

He taught in ways both small and wise—

Through knowing looks and patient eyes,

That strength is found in standing true,

And love is shown in what we do.

The world feels softer where he stood,

A little less understood,

For men like him don’t often come,

Yet leave their echo in everyone.

And though today we grieve his part,

He lives on in each grateful heart,

In every lesson, every smile,

In every memory worth the while.

So let us not just weep his end,

But honor him, this steadfast friend,

By living lives that speak his name—

With quiet strength, and love the same.