To our most beautiful Mommy, we are so very grateful and blessed to have spent the last few weeks with you. Though our hearts weren’t ready to let you go, we find comfort in knowing that you are now at peace, free of pain and suffering, reunited with the loved ones who went before you.

Our mom was an amazing woman.

She was deeply spiritual. She was a devout Catholic—without question. For as long as we can remember, she prayed the Rosary and Divine Mercy chaplet every single day. She dedicated a decade to every child and grandchild.  So you know she prayed the rosary more than once in a day. Her connection with God started when she was in high school.  She went to a Catholic all female boarding school where she attended daily prayers and masses.  She even considered becoming a nun. To the end of her days, she never missed Sunday Mass or any of her religious obligations. Her faith in God was unwavering. She often told us she was one of God’s favorites, and that He always listened to her prayers. Whenever we needed spiritual guidance or someone to pray for us, she was the first person we called.

She was a devoted wife. Married for 66 years, she lovingly cared for our dad through every stage of life—even up to her very last breath. In her final days, she did everything she could to prepare him for the inevitable, making sure he would not suffer too much from her absence.

She was selfless, caring, and generous. She always put others before herself. Even when she didn’t have much to give, she gave with her whole heart and never asked for anything in return. If you asked her for something, her answer was always yes—without hesitation.

She loved unconditionally. Though my siblings and I aren’t perfect, her love for us never wavered. She embraced us wholly, flaws and all. Anyone who knew her felt the warmth of her love—pure, genuine, and unconditional. She especially cherished her time with her grandchildren. They brought her so much joy, and she loved each and every one of them with all her heart.

She was the life of the party. She loved being surrounded by family and never missed a celebration, especially family gatherings. She adored parties, socializing, and simply spending time with loved ones. She was always up for trying something new. So full of life, she truly lived each day like it was her last.

She radiated beauty—inside and out. Mom took great care of herself, and it showed. She always reminded us that consistency was key, and she was our inspiration when it came to aging gracefully. People would often ask her for her beauty secrets—she truly seemed like the fountain of youth. Even in sickness, her face remained radiant. But her most remarkable beauty was the kind she didn’t even realize—the beauty that shone from deep within her soul.

Though your soul now rests with God, we will carry you in our hearts—always, endlessly, forever.

Hello everyone. My name is Des, and I am one of the siblings. Out of the five of us, I’m the eldest daughter among four girls.

I moved out of California over 30 years ago, so I usually only came back to visit during the holidays, especially Christmas, which also happens to be my mom’s birthday. Over the years, those visits became treasured moments. Brief but meaningful opportunities to reconnect, to laugh, to celebrate, and to feel the warmth of home.

So I am very grateful that, through an unexpected opportunity, thanks to my dearest cousin, I was able to spend the last six weeks with you.

Though it wasn’t the easiest of times, as your health was rapidly declining, it became a time I didn’t realize I needed so deeply. Just being near you, helping care for you during your final days, was both heartbreaking … and profoundly meaningful.

And now, I can’t believe it’s been almost three weeks without you.

My siblings and I, including all your grandchildren, continue to struggle as we try to navigate this world without your warmth, your strength, and your love. Your absence is felt in every moment, in everything we do and especially as we prepared this special celebration of life tribute, to show you and everyone just how deeply you are loved.

Unbeknownst to many of you, my mom sent me to live with another family when I was just ten years old. At the time, it was actually I who begged her to let me go—as I was inseparable from my cousin, and I wanted nothing more than to live with her. But I was too young to understand why my mom so willingly said yes.

Throughout my growing years, and up through college, I spent more time with my aunt and cousins than I did with my own parents and siblings. They became my second family and embraced me as one of their own. I only got to see my real family during summer breaks and Christmas.

After my first year being away, I distinctly remember begging my mom many times to take me back home but she would always say, “No, you should stay with them. It’s good for you.”

A part of me always wondered: Why me? Why was I the only one she sent away? Was I different? Was I less loved? And so I carried that question like a quiet chip on my shoulder for as long as I can remember.

But as many of you now know thanks to one of the fun facts we included in her tribute, Mom too was the eldest of her siblings and she was sent to live with her aunt at a young age. And for her, it was one of the best experiences of her life.

And just very recently, my siblings helped me understand why she let me go. She experienced independence, learned resilience, and found joy in a new kind of family life. So when she made the same decision for me, it wasn’t because she loved me any less. It was because she wanted me to experience something she had cherished so deeply. She gave me the gift of freedom, growth, and love, just in a different form.

Looking back now, I realize how truly blessed I’ve been. I didn’t grow up with less love. I grew up with more. I had the rare gift of not just one, but two wonderful moms who loved and nurtured me into the person I am today. I gained 6 more siblings, people I hold so very close to my heart—many of whom are here with me today, sharing in this grief.

And perhaps the greatest lesson in all of this is that: It’s not about how much time you spend with someone, it’s about the quality of that time, and the depth of love shared.

Though I’ve been so incredibly blessed to have had you in my life for 64 beautiful years, the truth is my heart selfishly wishes for more. More time. More hugs. More special moments. Because no amount of time with you would ever have been enough.

I thank God for blessing me with the gift of a truly perfect mother. And though my heart wasn’t ready to let you go, I find comfort in knowing that you are now with Manuel in heaven, watching over me. With both of your love in my heart, I will carry on ... until the day we are reunited.

Mommy, it’s been over two weeks since you passed away, and my heart has been broken over missing you since then. You, Mommy, were the matriarch of our family, the leader of our clan, the woman who paved the way for four generations of Abayas. I reflect on your life in absolute awe—you are my greatest hero. Your devotion to your faith, your loved ones, and to yourself is the reason I hope to accomplish what you have—the best kind of life well lived, the proof of which overflows from the love that runs thick and deep and true though our bloodlines. I have you to thank for every joke that made me laugh, every conversation that touched my heart, and every piece of advice that soothed my soul from the many people that are in this world because of you—my Mama, my Titas and Uncle, my cousins, and my daughter. 

I feel so lucky that circumstances brought me to the Bay Area to be with you for the last four years, to spend time together, to hear your stories, to feel your hugs. Most of all, I cherish the time Raye had with you. While it devastates me that she may not remember you one day, I am also so happy to have witnessed the bond you shared with her, a gift I wouldn’t trade for anything. 

How could I ever find the words to thank you for everything you’ve given me? An impossible feat, as impossible as it is to forget you. 

Your spirit lives on even in the simplest of things: cans of Coke with pizza, hamburgers, and sandwiches; freshly painted mauve manicures; a well worn rosary; hair rollers and muumuus; any artistic depiction of the Last Supper; cross-stitch canvases and diamond paintings—these and so many other things are steeped in my remembrance of you, Mommy. 

Like the diamond ring you recently gifted me from your jewelry collection, I will hold you tightly, fondly, and longingly, in my heart, forever.

Some people teach with textbooks—Mommy Naty taught with her presence, her prayers, and her love.

When I think about her now, I think about how much she taught me—not just with words, but with how she lived. She was a teacher in many ways, and at one point even worked as one back in the Philippines. But outside of any classroom, her most powerful lessons came through her spirit. 

Through her strength. 

Through the way she showed up for the people she loved.

Looking back, there are three lessons she taught me that I carry with me every day.

The first … be good to yourself.

Mommy Naty believed in choosing yourself—not selfishly, but wisely. She would always tell me to make sure I had savings, to prepare for what could happen, to take care of myself and my future. And when it came to relationships? She didn’t play. She would say, “Make sure the person courts you. Don’t just give yourself to anyone.” She knew.

There was one moment I’ll never forget. I had just come out of a really difficult relationship in my 20s—one that had left me drained and unsure. I hadn’t really told anyone about it yet. Not even my cousins… who, let’s be real, always find out first. But Mommy came up to me, at the perfect time after a family gathering, and said, “I’ve been praying for you. I prayed that God would open your eyes, in whatever way He needed to, so you could see the truth—and remember what you truly deserve.”

She just knew. She always knew.

She taught me that being good to yourself means honoring your worth, even when it’s hard. BUT Especially when it’s hard.

The second lesson … be great.

Mommy didn’t just walk into a room—she owned it. With no effort, all eyes would turn to her. Something even one of my best friends noted to me.  It wasn’t just how she looked, though she always carried herself with elegance. It was her energy. Her confidence. Her fearlessness. Her love for life—and for us.

She also wasn’t afraid to make you uncomfortable. In fact, I think she enjoyed it a little. Mommy always told it how it was. She would say something brutally honest, and then we’d all laugh and say, “Well, that’s Mommy for you.” She didn’t sugarcoat the truth—she handed it to you raw, real, and out of love.

And now I know why: because she wanted me to grow. She wanted all of us to live up to the greatness she saw in us. She pushed us, challenged us, and believed in us—because she knew we could handle it. Mommy didn’t settle for less, and she didn’t want us to either.

She taught me that greatness isn’t just something you chase—it’s something you choose, every day.

The third lesson and honestly, my favorite one ... because it is part of her that I see in myself. Family is everything. Mommy made me love family.

She turned even the smallest things into full-on celebrations. TV show premieres? A party. A movie night? Let’s all go!! Birthdays? Huge production with anything we wanted!!!! Halloween costumes? Basically a full runway moment. We even celebrated COVID anniversaries—because why not? That was us.  That was our normal. Mommy instilled in us this deep sense that everything was worth honoring if it meant being together. And the truth is, we only had that idea—we only knew how to celebrate like that—because of the family she created.

But then there was her birthday—which also happened to fall on December 25th. But in our world, it wasn’t that her birthday was on Christmas ... it was that Christmas was on her birthday. That was the real holiday. The iconic climax of every year.

She created memories for us. She made sure we stayed connected, laughed together, and never forgot what really mattered. Mommy didn’t just have a family—she built one. And she kept it together with her love, her traditions, her joy, and her presence.

She reminded me that no matter what happens in life, your people are everything.

Mommy Naty didn’t just live a life—she lived a lesson. Three.

She taught me to be good to myself—to never forget my worth.
She taught me to be great—to walk boldly and speak truthfully.
And she taught me that family is everything—that life is meant to be celebrated together.

These lessons weren’t written in books. They were lived in the way she looked at you, the way she prayed for you, the way she pulled you aside to tell you the truth even when it stung a little. She taught through love. Through presence. Through faith.

So today, I carry her with me. In the way I show up for myself. In the way I dress, In the way I spend time with my loved ones, In the way I try to stand tall. And in the way I love the people around me.

I miss you already, Mommy. But your voice, your truth, your laughter, and your love—those are still with me. They always will be.

Salamat, Mommy Naty. I love you forever.

From Mommy’s special 12th grandchild, Issy (or Isi as she often calls me)—daughter of Cyndy (Mommy’s only ex-daughter-in-law) and Peter (Mommy’s son-in-law). Mommy never made me feel like I wasn’t one of her own, not even for a second.

Including me, Mommy has 12 grandkids. Every time I saw her, she would say, “I pray for you, and everyone, every night.” Her prayers are the strongest!

I didn’t want to tell anyone I lost my job a few years ago, but I ended up sharing, and I think it’s because of her prayers that I somehow landed my next role. Then it happened again—I lost my job. But I kept saying, "I have a feeling this next role is just gonna land in my lap." Sure enough, it really did, like miraculously! The next time I saw Mommy at one of our family parties, I sat with her and we held hands. She asked me, "Did you get a job yet? I’ve been praying for you." I said, "Yes Mommy, I did! It just landed in my lap. Your prayers are so strong! Thank you for always praying for me!" Then we sat on the couch a bit longer and she said, "Okay we have to thank God now." We kept holding hands as she said a prayer thanking God. I just know in my heart that Mommy waited until all of her grandkids were ok before moving on.

Before I got up, she said, "You need to come by the house, I have shoes for you." And how special it is that I’m the only one of her grandkids who can fit them ;)

Love you so much, Mommy! So happy you're at peace living your best spiritual life in heaven—God’s favorite, and ours.

Hello, I am Carie Purisima Rosal, niece to Auntie Naty.

I have known Auntie Naty all my life. I was 4 years old when our family moved to Dagupan and we were neighbors with the Abayas for about 2 years.

Auntie Naty was THE cool aunt! She was the aunt we always could relate to because there was never a generational gap with her. She was up to date with whatever was the fad of our times! 

Auntie was also ahead of her times. Very progressive! She was driving in the 60’s when not too many women drove!

For the last 30 years, Auntie and I have been on the opposite sides of the USA. I am based in Delaware. We would call each other every so often and it was never a short call. And after each call, she leaves me with the feeling that she is just next door to me again. 

Auntie Naty was the epitome of aging gracefully! She definitely had a secret fountain of youth! I know she always consistently used her “kokoryu“ moisturizer and did her egg white (take note—”fresh” egg whites) facial mask! Or maybe she already used a different brand. But I think we all know that her fountain of youth came from within her—she loved a lot and was loved a lot. Based on her few wrinkles, she also most likely smiled and laughed a lot and did now frown much. 

Auntie, it was a privilege to be part of your care group even if was just virtual.