Harold H. Martinez Tribute

My Father, My Daddy
It was the late afternoon of January 8th at about ten minutes before 5:00pm, my brothers and sisters with the rest of our extended family started to gather around my father in the Family Room of his home on Country Knoll Place. My sister, Debbie, started to lead us in praying the Rosary. There appeared to be a glow coming from my father and a slight scent of incense filled the air.
My sister Rose, whispered in my father’s ear, “Dad, your wife, children, brother and sisters are here and you can go now.” As we started praying the first glorious mystery leg of the rosary, my father lifted his head, opened his eyes to see the family surrounding him. He put his head down, closed his eyes, and took his last breath. He left all of us at 5:00pm that evening.
These were the last few moments of my father’s life, but it showed his everlasting love he had for his family to make sure his family was safe before he entered the Gates of Heaven.
From the Gospel of Luke, Jesus said, “When you have done all you are ordered to do, say, ‘I am worthless servant who has done no more than his duty.’ “My father wears a sense of nobility and an ability to do the right thing, not out of personal gain, fear, or guilt but because it is his duty.” This passage signifies my Father’s Life. It was never about him. He lived his life for his wife, Gloria, his children, Harold, Debbie, Rosemarie, Gilbert and Connie; his grandchildren Robert, Noelle, Christina V., Sean, Nicholas, Andrew, Courtney, Harold III, Joey, Ashley, Bianca, Christina G. Andreas, and Christian; his great-grandchildren Dillon, Brent, Anthony, Nadia, Marijane, and Madison. Plus the countless extended family, friends, and business associates.
Here is an example of my Father’s Drive to help his family, in his own words, “I blame the war for having to work, etc. But at the same time, I do not want to be a hypocrite. I loved being in the slots I was put into. I loved having to get what needed to be done. I was only four and a half when we moved to the Projects, and by Five and a half I was selling papers, at six; I was shining shoes, eight: cutting grass. From nine to twelve, I was back in the corner selling papers, plus the paper route. Wages were from anywhere from 25 cents to 60 cents, depending on the amount of papers sold. Lots of people felt sorry for me, thinking I was holding them for someone else. And they would give me a dime and there would be three cents coming and they would say, “Keep the change, keep the change. I gave my mother all the money except the tips. My elder brothers, Nick and Edmundo, picked on me , saying I had more money, which I did, so I hid the money and what have you. I would hide it in the corner where I sold papers under a rock. Periodically, I had to go to the corner and change all the coins to dollars. And then I had to figure out a way for the dollars not to fly away. I would get a good size rock, dig a hole, bury it and then put another rock on top of that. Come Christmas Time, I would use that money to buy my parents and sisters gifts.”
Christmas was always a special time for my Father. No matter how difficult the times were for our family in our younger days. My father always made it a very special time for all of us.
Driving to Grandma Tita’s House on Christmas Eve, followed by a special Christmas Morning at our home on Sichel Street, Fulton Avenue, Marvene Drive or Country Knoll Place was always special. We would then trek down to 8th and Dacotah Street, Grandma Sara’s Home. I still can’t figure out how all the entire Farfan Family plus Christmas Gifts fit into that house!
My father did all he could in his life to lead a spiritual life for all of us. Encouraging us to attend Mass every Sunday, seeing we performed all our Sacraments, and setting an example of providing monetary support to the church.
My father, along with my mother, would attend every family event, from Birthday Parties, to Graduations, marriages, and other special occasions, like school plays, recitals, and sporting events. Neither time nor distance would deter my parents on supporting their family and extended family every chance they had.
My father started Able Industrial Products in 1974 to help bring his family together on a more day-to-day basis. My sister, Debbie, right out of High School, was the first employee of Able Industrial Products, where she continues to work today. Gilbert soon joined the company working summers and after school, before joining my father Full-Time after getting his degree from Chapman, Connie joined my father’s company after she finished Community College, Rose and I continued to work in our respective careers, but worked part-time supporting Able Industrial Products, whenever we could.
Yes, my father is physically gone – but his heartfelt presence, his spirit is not gone. His soul is not gone and lives in each of our memories forever . . . we struggle with his death because we thing it’s the end. But he is free now. He is spiritually vibrant and healthy in the company of our father, Jesus Christ.
He is not there in that casket . . . he is everywhere watching over us. You only have to close your eyes to feel his presence. You only have to look around at all of us here in this church to see his legacy. He is not there in that casket . . . He is here with all of us forever in our hearts, our minds and our shared memories. He lives forever through us, his children, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, family and friends.
I would like to end with an imaginary thought:
Please all of you close your eyes and imagine. Picture all of us at the bank of a large lake. See us all standing together looking out at the water. We can see my dad, Harold alone on a small boat – he is floating away from us heading into a fog. As he floats away he is looking back at us over his shoulder – he can see us, we are crying, sad and slowly waving to him. He can hear us saying our personal “good byes.” “We will miss you.” “Why did you have to go?” Soon he disappears from us. He slowly fades into the fog disapprearing from us.
Now, picture him coming out of the fog on the other side . . . My Father can no longer see us, but he can now see the other shore line. There are several people there and he can see that they are all eagerly waving, cheering, excited as he gets closer to heaven he can recognize faces, he can feel their energy as he is mobbed and hugged and welcomed into his eternal home . . . it’s Grandma Tita, Grandpa Gilbert, His Brothers Facho, Nicky, and Freddie, His Nephews Nicky Jr., Anton, Willie Jr, and Brent, his Father-in-law Juan, His Brothers in Law Ponchy, Pablo, and Mario, Sister-in-law Beatrice and all who went before him. Now, he can hear them all saying “welcome home . . . we’ve been waiting for you.” “We love you.”
Open your eyes, My Father, Harold, has joined our celestial heavenly family, playing cards, and looking after us.