Ramonita Fabio Inta

Let us tell you about our mother. She welcomed you with a cheery greeting as soon as you walked through the door, followed by a quick hug (that depended on how long time has passed since the last visit), and the predictable “Have you eaten? Are you hungry?” You immediately set your butt down at the kitchen island because it was always filled with home-cooked food and, if you’re lucky, leftovers from last night’s dinner. She freely shared the bounty and would place a plate in front of you with an unexpected treat. It could be a fried plantain set next to your elbow as you happily filled in a drawing in your coloring book.

Family lore has it that she learned on the fly with five kids, a husband, a mother called into service from the Philippines, and a youngest brother to feed; not to mention an assortment of extended in-laws who might drop by or a friend who might have needed a place to rest his head for a bit. The oldest of four brothers and one sister, she might have had skills already. The eldest daughter held particular responsibilities in a Filipino family that she willingly bore, taking them with her after marriage, motherhood and a move to another island, 1500 miles away in the Pacific Ocean and tinier than the last. She forged a life with Dad and his large family in a compound on the northern tip of Guam in the late 1960s. They made a home for us in the backside of a warehouse store until they could afford to build a three-bedroom house, literally pouring the cement to set the rebar for the concrete blocks, with the help of uncles and hired laborers. Life was good.

Except, Mom was always looking beyond. It took some time, but she convinced Dad to make the jump to the mainland some 10 years later—the kids were getting older. We left the sun and beaches of the island for those in California. Again, she helped build another life and completed a decades-long effort to bring her remaining siblings and their families to the U.S. She filled her life with work, family and friends, always heeding pleas for assistance. Kindness guided her, not judgment or mistaken beliefs that her eldest daughter status granted her unyielding authority or wisdom.

A keen traveler, Mom visited far-flung places—Canada, Italy, China—and nearby attractions like Hoover Dam and Las Vegas (a favorite destination with Dad in tow on these trips). She embraced people and culture. She was about fusion—food, clothing—way before it was a thing, and she did it with charm and wit. She was a practiced, independent wanderer with grit and determination. That mindset was our greatest gift: the freedom to become the persons we are today. Even in her final moments, she imparted that spirit. As her granddaughter prepared for her track meet, Mom's last words, a powerful echo of her own determination, were a simple, resounding, “Run hard! Run Fast!”

We, along with two precious grandchildren and a much-anticipated great-granddaughter, just weeks away from making an appearance, will always hold Mom in our hearts in the same way she opened her arms to her two sons-in-law, granddaughter-in-law and their families. She left behind three brothers and their wives, a sister-in-law, and a wealth of nieces and nephews with their own respective families. Soon, she joins the many loved ones beyond, not the least of which her parents, two siblings and Dad.