by Bridget Gomez Day

In Memorium,
December 24, 1951 to September 29, 1998

There are not enough words to describe my sister Marsha. There will never be another person in this world like her. She had a gift. She was a professional artist. Her work has been in many galleries and several museums in the United States, Kenya, Russia, Mexico, Haiti, Puerto Rico, and throughout Europe. She was one of a kind. Marsha was so multi-talented and so full of life. Her personality, life experiences, and challenges, her fiery temper along with her passion for our sacred Mother Earth and the healing power of peace were reflected in her art. She was not only a renowned artist and activist in her day but she was also a good mother, sister and friend. Our mother's qualities of love and compassion for her children and others without any judgement or condemnation reflected in Marsha. I had always looked up to her because she was my older sister. She always seemed to have her hands in so many different things. She was very busy with her work, art, traveling and being a mother. In spite of it all, she always seemed to have time to pick up the phone and call me and most importantly to tell me that she loved me in her sweet voice at the end of every conversation. Marsha and I were very close. Growing up together we always seemed to share a bed. We would talk and laugh until wee hours, usually waking my parents. We took turns scratching each other's backs until we fell asleep. She had such a good spirit and humor. We were inseparable. Marsha was creative even in her childhood. I can remember my mother asking her to look after me and my twin sisters while she went grocery shopping. I just sat and watched as Marsha picked up a pair of scissors and proceeded to cut the twins' hair. Marsha couldn't have been more than eight years old. Needless to say, it was a sight to behold! When my mother came in the house with bags of groceries in her hands the twins came running up to her. She dropped the groceries all over the kitchen floor. She was in shock! Oh Marsha! She was so proud of herself. In her school years she was a bright student always making A's. She was the Homecoming Queen her senior year and was on the dance team. Boy, she could "Jive"! She was loved by her classmates and teachers alike. When she graduated high school she went to Nichols State University in Thibodeaux, La. She received an associates degree in education and art. Not long after, she moved to Fayetteville, Ark., and pursued her art career from there. On Sept. 29, 1998, I received a phone call about her death. That same day and hour a part of me died with her. She is truly missed. I wrote this poem for her.

Precious Little Memories

Precious little memories of all the things we've done,
Make the darkest day a bright and joyful one.
Tender little memories of some word or deed,
A mother who gave her all to the son she loved,
And gave us strength and courage when we were in need.
Blesses little memories help us bear the cross,
Soften all the bitterness of failure and loss.
Priceless little memories are treasures without price,
Through the gateway of the heart they lead to Paradise.
"Those precious little memories 'til we meet again ..."