Marta Bethart
For my cousin, Pedro Forment ...
Today we celebrate the amazing life of Tia Marta. Her passing marks the end of a generation of strong women who did everything required “para resolver” y “para echar pa’lnate”. Tia joins the rest of the Tias who have passed before her as she was the last one who stayed back to give us all just a little more for a little longer. I am grateful we had Tia for so many years and in her quiet understated way, she led by example.
Tia was beautiful inside and out. Outside she had the softest, glowing skin; it needed no make-up or additives – she was just naturally beautiful. This superficial beauty was a reflection of what was inside through to her core.
Tia never had an unkind word or negative comment to say about anyone; even when the person deserved a good word lashing. It just was not who she was. While talkative and warm, you knew her silence could say more than words; while refraining from “going there” when others would, you could always “interpretar su silencio”. She had a look that said it all without having to say anything. She was just a class act, always.
Tia worked hard having been exiled and having to start from scratch echando pa lante una familia en el exilio. I recall as a young kid visiting Tia and Tio Roberto in their office on Flagler – she was the gatekeeper with her desk up front. While always giving the credit to Tio, she was the engine behind it all. Never one to take credit or let her power shine, but it was apparent to all that she made a lot of it happen.
Despite a very difficult childhood and the challenges life brought her, there was never an ounce of bitterness in Tia. She exuded warmth and serenity all the time. Never fake or insincere, she just took everyone for who they were and did not judge.
Tia was a great cook, and I recall as a child when visiting her and Tio Roberto that we had a little routine. Tio would take me out to see his frutales (injertos that resulted in what were rather small fruit trees producing the amount of fruit a very large tree would produce). We would walk all the way to the rear of the property to inspect each frutal. Then Tia would prepare these crustless sandwiches with pasticas. She would organize them all fancy on a plate. This I found to be such a treat as my mom while wonderful at making 4 things (croquetas, carne fria, caldo Gallego and tortilla), did not have any of the Martha Stewart type genes; Tia did.
Like mom, Tia was a creative soul. She had the gift few of us have- the ability to work hard, but the understanding that they are also creatives who make things to share with others and leave behind a legacy of what are works of art. Treasures that she gifted for those she loved to enjoy. Mom wore Tias estola until her last days; the estola was not only perfectly handcrafted, it provided the warmth and protection that represented Tia.
Tia was Switzerland. In a family known for discord, disputes, fractured relationships- Tia was everything but. As with my mom, both married to challenging men who could challenge the patience of even the most serene, Tia was always the embodiment of harmony and she carried herself at all times trying to promote this virtue regardless of what storms circled about. Ella nunca cayo en eso.
We have all been made better by having had Tia Marta. As we send her off, we know that those on the other side eagerly await her entrance. Now its time for them to chismear and catch up. Clearly, the others would be contando los chismes as Tia would never indulge in that type of activity, but I can see her sitting, looking intently, and hearing all the chismes without indulging in the same- her silence golden and very Tia Marta.
Tia, we will miss you but know you will be hovering over us; watching us, supporting us, and making sure we do not stray
