Grace Ellen Mier

Grace Ellen Martinez Mier

November 21, 1941 - September 10, 2026

Gracie went home to her Sal on September 10, 2026, at the age of 84. She left the way she lived: steady, gracious, and facing forward. In her final months she often repeated a little phrase in Spanish, "Ya no hay vuelta atrás, solo seguir adelante." There's no turning back now, only moving forward. That was Mom, right to the end.

Grace was born on November 21, 1941, to Levi and Anastasia Martinez on the family ranch in Tierra Amarilla, New Mexico, with a view of Box Canyon she carried with her all her life. She was the 11th of 12 children, and growing up in a house that full taught her early what she would spend her life teaching us: family comes first, and hard work matters. She was brilliant from the start. She graduated as valedictorian of her class as a junior, could recite Edgar Allan Poe's "The Raven" from memory, and completed the New York Times crossword every Sunday.

At 19, she went to a party in Amarillo and met a young airman named Sal Mier. From that first dance, they knew. They married in December 1961 and shared 60 years together. While Sal earned his degrees at the University of New Mexico, Gracie held down the fort, working and raising their two oldest babies at the same time.

Sal's career with the CDC took the family from Albuquerque to New Orleans, back to Albuquerque, then San Juan, Puerto Rico, Little Rock, Arkansas, and finally Midlothian, Texas, where they raised their five children. Wherever they landed, Grace made it home. Along the way she built a 25-year career of her own as a manager with the Social Security Administration and spent several years teaching English as a second language to elementary students in Midlothian. She and Sal carried that gift overseas, too, teaching English to students in Spain on one of their favorite adventures.

Mom was a gifted painter and writer. She was deeply proud of her Picurís heritage, and the Picurís are known as the "picture painters," a name she carried with joy and lived out on every canvas. The desert Southwest was her specialty, and the landscapes of her native New Mexico filled her work. She passed that gift down to many of her grandchildren, and her paintings hang in our homes today, family heirlooms that will be treasured for generations.

Mom's hands were never idle. Over the years she wove thousands of ojos de Dios, the colorful "God's eyes" beloved in Northern New Mexico, and gave them to her children, friends, and nearly everyone who crossed her path. The woven eye is said to watch over the person who keeps it. Today her ojos hang in homes across the country, and we like to think she is still watching over every one of us.

She had the same magic in the garden. Most days you could find her out there with a shovel in her hand from sun up to sun down, and Dad would have to coax her in for supper. Mom could make anything grow, and plants she propagated are still thriving in yards all over Texas and as far as Chicago. Every one of them is a little piece of her.

And then there was her kitchen. Mom was cooking fusion before anyone had a word for it, blending the flavors of her New Mexico and Italian heritage into something all her own. Her enchiladas and tamales were incomparable, and she made her pasta by hand, flour on the counter and noodles drying on every surface she could find. No holiday was complete without her yeast rolls and sourdough.

She and Sal shared a deep sense of right and wrong. Together they championed a clean and safe environment and stood up against injustice, and they passed those convictions down to their children and grandchildren.

Above all, Mom was gracious to everyone she met. Even in her final days, she put everyone else's comfort before her own, always saying "thank you and be careful." And even as her memory faded, she never lost her family. She knew every one of our voices until the very end.

Grace is survived by her children, Lorraine Mayes (Allen), Robert Mier, Steven Mier, Catherine Cole (David), and Stacy Dockins (Dave); her sisters, Mary Rush of Fayetteville, Arkansas, and Anavi Roman (Victor) of Orlando, Florida; her grandchildren, Robby Mier (Stacy), Alex Mayes (Hailey), Kiley Mier (Josh), Jake Dockins (Melissa), Andrew Mier, Connor Mayes (Kelsey), Matt Mier, Luke Dockins (Kenzie), Maddi Cole (Shubhi), Kera Dockins (Ryan), Molly Mayes (Jake), Camille Cole, and Cooper Cole; eight great-grandchildren; two great-great-grandchildren; and many cherished nieces, nephews, and cousins.

She was preceded in death by her beloved husband, Salvador Armando Mier Jr.; her parents, Levi and Anastasia Martinez; her great-grandson, Rockford Ray Mier; her brothers, Levi Martinez Jr., Ben Martinez, Walter Martinez, Ray Martinez, and Richard Martinez; and her sisters, Olivia Martinez, Kathleen Robinson, Naomi Greene, and Carol Martinez.

There will be no public service. The family will gather privately on the family land in Tierra Amarilla, where Mom and Dad's ashes will be spread together, overlooking Box Canyon, right where her story began.

The family extends heartfelt thanks to the caring team at Sage Oak Residential Care Home, especially Anise, Margreth, Kathy, Danielle, Shana, Olanda, Juanita, and Pauline, who loved Mom like family.

Finally, Special thanks as well to Waldo Rios and his hospice team, the Knights of Comfort, who cared for her with such tenderness and dignity in her final months.

In lieu of flowers, the family asks that donations be made to dementia research through the Alzheimer's Association at Alzheimer's Association /donate.

Grace painted mesas gold and red,

She grew our gardens, baked our bread,

She knew our voices to the end,

Our mother, teacher, artist, friend.

"No turning back," she used to say,

"Just keep on moving, day by day."

So on she went, past canyon walls,

To where the desert quiet falls,

Home again to Box Canyon's view,

Where Sal stood waiting, dancing too.

"Solo seguir adelante."

Just keep moving forward.