Zenaida Trinidad Macaraeg

It’s simple, our mom had a gift, and it was love — pure and unfiltered. And she shared it in the most beautiful way she knew how: through food, through family, and by always being there.

If you ever had the pleasure of eating at home, you know exactly what I mean. Dinner wasn’t just a meal in our home. It was a ritual, a ritual now looking back I know I took for granted. No matter how busy life got, dinner was always ready on the table every night. I’m sure many of you know how difficult that is. I literally was just wondering what was for dinner last night. It wasn’t about how fancy the food was either — though I will say, she could make a mean egg roll. It was about the love and dedication she had for her family that kept those dinners on the table every single night.

She was the kind of mom who never missed a birthday, who remembered the little things, who showed up to your practices and games, who cooked every Christmas Eve so that everyone would come over and celebrate her son’s birthday, who somehow always knew when you needed a hug — or a pinch on the arm. Seems like she always knew when you needed a pinch on the arm — a lot. She made a home that felt safe, joyful, and whole. A place where we could be ourselves, make mistakes, laugh too loud, cry without shame, and always — always — find our way back.

- Alfred

From the very first day we met Mom, she was our rock. Growing up, she was the first person we saw when we woke up and the last person we saw when we went to bed. She was always around, she always showed up, and she always put us first.

When I thought about what to say tonight, my thoughts were so scattered. There is so much to say and not enough at the same time. However, after speaking to several of Mom’s friends and family since she’s passed, I realized that everyone’s experience with her was similar to ours. And that’s because Mom was a selfless person, a caretaker by nature, and everyone’s best friend.

Mom took care of everyone. She took care of Dad, she took care of us, she took care of her brother, she took care of our extended family, our friends, her friends—the list goes on and on. Her love language was cooking and if you got a meal from Mom, that meant she loved you. If you requested a specific dish from her, she made it. If you ever once commented that you enjoyed something she made, she would remember that and make it for you routinely. Even when her fingers were sore from her arthritis, she found a way to cook for people because that’s how she showed love.

One time when Mom and Dad were in an argument, she left the house for a few days to “teach Dad a lesson.” She didn’t tell him where she was, but I knew she was at my cousin’s house. Mind you, my cousin was more than happy to have a sleepover with Mom because she knew she would get homecooked meals. While she was “teaching Dad a lesson” by leaving the house, she would come back during the day while he was at work to cook for him. When I asked her why she would do that, she replied, “So I can make sure he eats.” This is who Mom was—a caretaker. Even if she was mad at you, she still wanted to take care of you.

She has left a mark on all of us here tonight (and probably some bruises at some point with those pinches) and we will miss her more than words can say.

-April