Mary Patricia (Pat) Martin
Mother, wife, nurse, friend. Born on March 14, 1918, in Whitney Pier, N.S.; died on Nov. 21, 2015, in Halifax, of cancer, aged 97.
Our mother's heart was always open, as was our front door. There was a constant stream of people to our Halifax home – neighbours, friends, relatives from Newfoundland – and no one ever left without fresh cookies, a jar of her coveted mustard pickles, or a pair of mittens.
Mom was an ordinary woman of extraordinary depth and strength. She faced adversity early in life; she was only 7 when her mother died, forcing the Goff family of six children to leave Cape Breton and move to their father's hometown, Carbonear, Nfld.
In 1942, Pat graduated from St. Clare's Mercy Hospital School of Nursing in St. John's. The following year, a call went out for nurses in Halifax and she was on the move again to begin her nursing career. Soon after moving there, she met an engineer Clifford (Pepper) Martin, who courted her with picnics and canoe rides along the Northwest Arm. They married in 1945 and raised four children (Kathleen, Ken, John and Mary) with Pat giving up her nursing to be a stay-at-home mom.
In her early 50s, however, she returned to nursing at Camp Hill Hospital in Halifax. Her leadership talents were quickly recognized and she was promoted to night nursing supervisor within a year.
Her children always knew she was a natural leader and coach. When Newfoundland cousins visited one summer, she taught them to swim. She taught some of our friends how to ride a two-wheeler, others were instructed on knitting and sewing. As the daughter of a tailor, she came by her love of clothes naturally. She enjoyed the fashion world, poring over her Hello! magazine to check out the Queen's latest outfit. She could sew anything – repair a car seat cover, make bicycle seat covers for my brothers, even mend the sail for a pal's boat.
Mom always had "something on the needles," as she would say; she knit mittens by the hundreds (many destined for church fairs) and sweaters by the dozens, including her famous Irish knit sweaters, often while listening to Saturday Afternoon at the Opera (Placido Domingo's arias always made her stop mid-stitch).
Music was in her blood; she played the piano until her last few weeks, and even then she was still playing "air piano" when listening to CBC Radio2. A loyal symphony-goer, she was also an avid reader of Canadian authors, bridge player, Habs fan and news junkie. Weekly phone calls with her brothers were always about family, hockey, politics and all things Newfoundland.
Dad died in 1981, and Mom, who continued working until she was 72, was a widow almost as long as she was a wife. Although she had no grandchildren of her own, she was a surrogate grandmother to many – she loved the babies.
When she became ill in 2014, she made many visits to the urology clinic. Seldom was she able to get through the hospital door without hearing a voice echoing down the hall, "Is that you Pat?" Throughout her career, she acquired a group of lifelong friends in the nursing fraternity and was respected as a "nurse's nurse."
Mom was loving, fair, generous, funny, wise, resilient and, in her last months, especially brave. She died peacefully with family at her side, and as she lived her life, with acceptance and dignity.
Kathleen Martin is Pat's daughter.