“There is dignity in Dementia if we say there is. There is wisdom and humor and radiance if only we can see it. I make the effort because my mother does and because it is what she deserves after a long life well lived, harming no one.”

It’s Mom’s birthday today. She would have been 91. Had some lumpia – albeit frozen from Seafood City, not homemade – to remember her by. It was, of course, not nearly as good as hers.

Happy birthday, Mom. Wish you were here.

The Marcos legacy that keeps on giving

I remember Mom packing lots of towels and T-shirts in balikbayan boxes. And cans of Vienna sausage and corned beef and Spam. Lots and lots of Spam.

Sara Tardiff writes in The Atlantic that Ferdinand Marcos, of all people, seeded this tradition of Filipino immigrants sending giant boxes of stuff back to the homeland. And it keeps going today.

“‘Often when I think of a balikbayan box, I think about when the family receiving it gathers to open it,’ Clarissa Aljentera, a Filipino American writer from Fremont, California, told me via email. ‘And if you aren’t there, someone will put the item aside and make sure you receive a piece … of the U.S.” They’re a reminder to many that they aren’t alone and haven’t been forgotten.'”

First attempt at making lumpia from scratch (except for the wrapper, which was store-bought). My sister talked me through the basic ingredients of our mom’s recipe (ground pork, julienned vegetables [carrots, snow peas], bean sprouts, and sliced water chestnuts), and I took it from there.

Okay for a first attempt, though I need practice in wrapping them. Cooked them in my new air fryer, and I find I miss the greasy sheen of deep frying.

Most of all, I miss being able to ask Mom how to pull these off.



In 2021, I lost my mom, then a dear friend, and then found out a couple of college friends had died in the past year. And that’s on top of all the other messes in the world.

Thanking God that there were still pockets of joy along the way. Still, this year can’t end fast enough.

I stumbled onto “Ted Lasso” when the first 2 episodes were featured on the flight from my mom’s funeral in June. This show has been such a godsend these past few months, almost as if it was Mom’s parting gift to me or something.

I just ate my weight in leftover funeral lumpia for dinner. I somehow want to think Mom would be proud.

Obit finally posted to Mom’s memorial website. Probably will post it separately on the blog at some point.

Reconstructing Mom, one photo at a time

Been getting to bed by 2 or 3 a.m. the past few nights. Working on photo scanning, editing, and uploads to Mom’s memorial site. I still have a full obituary to write and a slideshow that I need to figure out how to create — all, ideally, by Friday. And I still have a job to tend to during the day.

Not complaining. All of this is the least I could do. My siblings have borne the far greater burden of our mother’s slow decline. And shuffling through hundreds of photos is helping me rebuild memories of someone I have been grieving over the past five years.

ICAD 6: Mom’s hipster spectacles

ICAD 6/61; no prompt. Gel pens, metallic Sharpies, printer paper, and repurposed cardboard.

Spending much of my weekend scanning family photos for an online tribute and slideshow for Mom’s visitation. This seemed kind of appropriate.

(I’m also finding she really rocked the hipster spectacle frames back in the day.)

Pro tip: Take as much time off as possible after the death of a close loved one. Returning to work too soon is a terrible idea.

ICAD 1: Still life with Mom

ICAD 1/61; no prompt. (Most will be no prompt.) Paint markers, Sharpies, acrylic paint, gel pen, laser printer, and repurposed cardboard.

Produced a makeshift title card this afternoon. I was testing some old markers on a card to see if they were still usable, and opted to do something with that card.

I’ve made Mom my patron saint, as it were, for this maiden voyage into the ICAD world. So, here she is (with me behind her, age 5), joining me in this venture.

(Also, I’ve created a second Instagram account for my art experiments: @gratuitous.art. Unlike my personal account, @gratuitous.art is public.)

Spending time today to search for and scan old photos for Mom’s visitation in a couple of weeks. I am finding great joy in this, as well as some incredibly terrible hair and wardrobe choices.

A good omen would be a nice thing right now

The small dot on my wedding dress, next to my brother’s disembodied limb, is a ladybug. Mom was completely giddy, as ladybugs are supposed to be good luck. Few things excited Mom more than good omens, and to have one at our wedding reception had delighted her no end.

(Not the greatest photo in the world, I know, but I still love it.)

And with this, I need a break. Two ballgames in the past four days, combined with a lot of emotional churn and a lot of photos and stories to sift through, left me spent. Maybe I leaned too hard into … into something over the past week.

Starting to remember why bereavement leave requires a good chunk of time.

Another day, another ballgame. I finally got to wear my A.J. Pierzynski jersey to a Sox game. But Mom’s namesake player went 0-for-4 today. And I saw a Titan’s son (Tyler Nevin, son of Phil) go 0-for-3 with the Orioles.

The good guys won, as Hawk Harrelson would say. And the fact that the Padres lost – just as they did Thursday – makes me worry that maybe my attending ballgames jinxes my hometown team.

It was still a beautiful day for baseball. And there was joy today.

Pressing into grief at the ballpark

One of the first things my sister told me Tuesday after she broke the news of our mom’s passing: Go ahead and go to your ballgame on Thursday. It wasn’t exactly what I was thinking about at the time.

But she reiterated the point during another phone call that night. “Daddy would want you to go,” she said. “Mams would want you to go.” Even my boss – who signed off on my day off for the game weeks ago – said the next morning, unprompted, I needed to go.

Finally, one of my wisest friends wrote me in an email this morning: “Don’t be shy about enjoying life (like ice cream and baseball) as you also press into waves of grief.”

So, we’re in Milwaukee today to watch my Padres. Mom wasn’t much of a baseball fan, but I’m still thinking of her anyway.

An obituary for Mom

Mercedes Vinluan Garcia died peacefully Tuesday afternoon in Bonita, California, slightly more than three months after celebrating her 90th birthday. Her oldest daughter and youngest sister were at her bedside.

It is awkward and deeply frustrating to have to grieve from afar. It is even more awkward to grieve when, in many respects, we lost our mother years ago. She was diagnosed with dementia around the time Frannie was born, so my daughter never knew her grandmother at her liveliest, most lucid self. But Mom’s illness never got in the way of her fierce devotion and love for all of us, and she delighted in her only grandchild – especially given that we named her after the husband she lost nearly 30 years ago.

It doesn’t help that COVID-19 concerns will likely limit arrangements to grieve together in California, even as many pandemic restrictions are being eased. It may be weeks before my sister and brother and I can lay her to rest.

I don’t really have it in me to weave the kind of lengthy, heartfelt tribute my mother deserves, so I won’t even try right now. The memories – her sardonic, surprisingly goofy sense of humor; her generosity of spirit; her almost comical worry about the tiniest things that might befall us – will arise here and there and at the weirdest times, as grief does. Just know that our hearts are broken, and we will miss her deeply.