In Memoriam:
Audrey Martin Stark
Audrey was so ill she was bed-ridden way too much. She still seemed so normal, and was just wonderful. She had an artificial eye, from diabetes complications. It looked natural enough that it was nearly impossible to tell. She didn't complain about it. She joked about it in that ironic Martin way. (Note: The eye operation took place after this photo was taken.) Once, when I was a little boy, she asked me to rub her feet for her when she was lying on her bed and low on energy. I didn't know then about diabetics having poor circulation in their feet. She was probably used to people rubbing and massaging her feet. I was not a contact person as a youth and I protested. "You little devil," she said, "I'm your aunt Audrey." She said it so lovingly and sweet, I still remember it.
My grandfather, Noah, was really, really rough raising the boys I had heard, but he left the girls alone. What I knew firsthand was that he was always there for Audrey, and in a masterful and loving father way as, of course, was grandmother. He took her on all those trips back and forth to the hospitals, to visits with doctors, made sure she had her medicine, paid whatever needed to be paid, visited with her at all hours in the hospitals, stayed up nights with her at her house when she was most ill and her husband George had to work. He never missed a beat. George, too, was totally devoted to Audrey. He didn't drink, carouse or do anything but be by Audrey's side. Audrey would go into remission, get her a new dress and make the rounds of relatives. She would be so excited and happy. That was in the denial part of her illness. She never said a bad word about anyone or anything nor did she even make a bad gesture. I'm not saying these things to praise her, it's just to somehow illustrate how much of a rarity she was.
