Oscar A Martinez

Oscar A. Martinez was born on June 30, 1924 and passed away on September 21, 2018. He was the embodiment of the Native American proverb, “When you were born, you cried and the world rejoiced. Live your life so that when you die the world cries and you rejoice.” There is no doubt that great rejoicing is taking place in heaven as he joined his beloved wife, Lilia, and all of his siblings and friends who preceded. He was the last of a truly great generation, who leaves behind tears from his children, grandchildren, and great grandchildren and those friends who love him and who will miss him greatly. But he also leaves behind great rejoicing by those who know him best and can visualize and fully appreciate the thought of the heavenly reunion that is currently taking place.

Oscar’s was a life well-lived. A man of strong conviction and tremendous sense of honor, he loved deeply and with complete abandon. He was a man of few words but of great depth. He loved his wife, his children, his grandchildren, his great-grandchildren, his lifelong friends, his music, his books, his baseball, his classic movies and his adopted country.

He was a pharmacist by profession, who often would prescribe Bacardi rum for whatever might ail you – a quick shot could cure a cold, and a dab on the skin would take care of a mosquito bite. He loved nature and the open road, gardening and all kinds of flowers and trees, most especially his beloved sycamore under whose shade he loved to sit.

Oscar met the love of his life, Lilia, in 1950. He was fond of telling the story of the day he first caught glimpse of her across a crowded intersection in Havana, as he stood behind the counter of the pharmacy where he was completing his practicum. When the light at the intersection changed, he said a small prayer that the most beautiful girl he had ever seen would please enter his establishment. His prayer was more than answered when she walked in and was introduced as the niece of the pharmacy owners. Their love story was epic. They were two incredible people, each amazing in their own right, yet somehow better together. They were the perfectly crafted half that when joined together created the most remarkable whole. And together, they would create a beautiful life for their children, Lili, Betty and Oscar. It was this epic love for each other and their children that compelled them to leave all behind in Cuba to make sure their children would grow up free, and they never looked back. They embraced their new country, worked hard, became citizens the moment they could, and made a beautiful life that was overflowing with love.

Oscar is survived by his daughters Lili and Betty, and son Oscar, sons-in-love Mick and Darrell, grandchildren Christy, Cathy, Teresa, Dar, Katie, Liesl, Regina and their spouses, Randy, Randy, Nick, Ana, Dan, Chris, Will, and great grandchildren Jordan, Jacob, Myah, Tristan, Ethan, Lilia, Xavier, Emma and Wyatt, and great-great grandson Hayden.

Oscar lost his beloved other half in 2012, and never fully regained the balance her departure left in his life. He was from the moment of her death just a bit bereft, off kilter, often speaking of the joy that would be theirs when they were finally together again and for all eternity. A man of faith, he never doubted they would be reunited, and knew she had only gone ahead for a bit, and that one day they would be together to create an eternal and loving space where they would wait for the rest of their loved ones to join. Oscar took solace in knowing that his beloved Lilia, who he called “vida de mi vida” was only just a heartbeat away.

He was very clear on how he wanted to be celebrated upon his passing. He wanted his children to celebrate his life by remembering all the love and laughter, the music and family times, the memories that will leave their mark on all the generations to come that are blessed to breathe because this amazing human being walked this earth, fell in love with the most beautiful girl in the world, made a life together, and valued that which was most important.

And he would remind those who mourn of a favorite poem sent to him when his beloved passed away, framed at his bedside:

Death is nothing at all.

I have only slipped away into the next room.

Whatever we were to each other, that we are still.

Call me by my old familiar name; speak to me in the easy way which you always used.

Laugh as we always laughed together.

Play, smile, think of me, pray for me.

Let my name be a household word that it always was.

Let it be spoken without effort.

Life means all that it ever meant.

It is the same as it ever was; there is absolutely unbroken continuity.

Why should I be out of your mind because I am out of your sight?

I am but waiting for you, for an interval, somewhere very near, just around the corner.

All is well.

Nothing is past; nothing is lost.

One brief moment and all will be as it was before, only better, infinitely better, infinitely happier and forever we will be one together in Christ.

And if that is not enough, he would admonish all who weep about the true definition of immortality:

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there,

I do not sleep.

I am a thousand winds that blow,

I am the diamond glints on snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning’s hush

I am the swift upflinging rush

of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there. I did not die.

Thank you, Papi, for a life truly well lived.

In lieu of flowers, we encourage donations to the Hope CommUnity Center in Apopka, Florida.