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Erica Bray
In Memory of
Erica Lesley
Bray (Witherell)
1974 - 2017
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The lighting of a Memorial Candle not only provides a gesture of sympathy and support to the immediate family during their time of need but also provides the gift of extending the Book of Memories for future generations.

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Condolences

Condolence From: Janet Calcaterra
Condolence: I send my sincerest condolences to the entire family, along with this poem. I wrote it with gratitude for Erica, based on the conversations we had as fellow vendors at the Boston Public Market when I met her about a year ago. Her spirit moved me to write this poem to honor her and the positive impact she made on my life. If given the opportunity, I will read it at the service.

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When I first meet people at the market,
I always ask them,
What brought you here?
“I love baking,”
You tell me with a smile.
You love the skill of creating
A comforting loaf of air, yeast, and flour.
You are delighted
To share these breads
With anyone who can indulge.

Your friendly energy draws people in daily.
Behind the counter you stand,
Observing the flow of people,
Patient to engage and connect.
To curious passersby, you offer:
“Just take a whiff of this!”
Smiling with pride, your raise
The opaque dome off the cake stand,
Wafting the tempting scent of those
Cheddar sage biscuits.

You have such pride for these creations!
Though you didn’t bake them yourself,
You treat every loaf like it came from your home.
You have no kids of your own;
Whenever children are near,
I notice your smile and eyes light up,
Sparkling not with longing,
But with joy, and pure love,
Grateful to witness
The vibrancy of childhood.

After a few conversations,
You tell me you are an artist;
You create emotional and distinct drawings
Of people and places;
You expertly capture the simple beauty of life.
You say you want to be an art teacher.
“I should go back to making art,”
You sigh with a soft “R”,
The accent that gives away
Your history in this town.
But art doesn’t pay the bills, and
Sometimes life gets in the way of creation.

Bartending for two decades
(And all the drinks that come with the job)
Added gentle creases at the corners of your eyes when you smile.
“The bar is right down the street, I walk by it all the time.”
You met your husband there,
(“He was a regular”)
And you love him so much,
I can tell.

You become one of my friends,
Supporting me through challenges
With relationships, my career, family, my pets.
(“I had rabbits growing up, too.”)
I can tell you anything.
My life has been turbulent since we met.
You offer me a place to stay when you think I might need it.
If I have a hard day,
Feeling stressed or stuck or overwhelmed,
Your lips and brown eyes smile gently,
And you tell me,
“You are so young,
You have time to figure things out.
You should come up north
To the house, and
Enjoy nature.”
I think to myself,
You are so young, too.

If I look closely, I can tell
When you’ve had a rough night:
You seem deflated, or shaken, or quiet.
But you don’t let that stop your charm,
That presence you have with people.
“My customers always come first:
Always.”
And you hardly talk about your challenges in life,
Except if I catch you in a weak moment,
After a bad day or a long night.

What a gem you are,
Your face glistens with smiles and
You are friendly to everyone,
Especially to other the staff here.
The market is your happy place.
You always say hello, even in the bathroom or in a busy moment.
Sometimes I wave to you
From my stall across the market,
And you smile and wave back.
I see your smile brighten when folks ask you a question,
Even if it’s just for directions.

Your tinkling laugh sounds like bells,
And I love to try to make you laugh.
As things in my life settle down,
But you talk less about yours,
I share my own positive stories,
Words of encouragement.
As our connection grows,
You’ve taken to the kindest gesture:
You stretch your hand
Across the counter to mine on the edge,
And a smile spreads across your face
Whenever you say goodbye to me.

Lately, my shift ends when yours begins,
And when I come over to chat,
You playfully bully me away.
“Go get the last of the sunlight!
Go enjoy your day!”
We have less opportunity to talk these days,
And I can tell you have things on your mind.
But you put my free afternoons first,
Ahead of sharing your troubles
With a friend.
And I don’t want to pry.

From what I do know
Of your story,
For far too long
You were Wonder Woman,
Defending yourself
Against countless riptides
As the waves of life crashed into you.
Yes, sometimes
Life gets in the way of creation.
And gradually,
Your energy drained from the battles,
You nearly stand still
And the currents flow past you.

The mind is powerful.
Sometimes it convinces us we are stuck
And not worth all the effort,
The work, the fuss
The trouble.
But what is life without action?
What remains if we are blocked from
Crafting a life
Of beauty and elegance
During our time in this world?

To all the creators and dreamers:
I implore you: do not stop.
Creation is a vital vibration,
To continue is essential
And expression is necessary.
After all, you and I and all of us
Are pieces of stardust!
We are assemblies of particles and molecules
Held together with the powerful adhesives
Of creation,
Of compassion,
Of human connection.
You are worth the effort of creation.
You are not alone.
Friday October 27, 2017
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