Betty Caroline Tominaga

You had amazing stories to tell about what Stockton was like growing up. Gypsy camps downtown with witch doctors or you’d point out how different areas had changed. You were intelligent enough to skip a grade and musically inclined in your youth. As you grew older you kept your violin tucked under your bed. You raised your kids to the best of your capabilities but I know you refused to believe half of the stories they have stored in their memories. Life was hard and reminiscing about them now sounds like a pilot for a comedy sitcom. You moved from place to place before you settled in your final home on Jefferson St. but you always kept you and your kids together. “Betty Bobcat” was a name we jokingly called you but in actuality you earned that nickname because of the similarities you had with the beast. Stoic, small, fierce and ready to chase if needed. You made sure to have a individual bond with each of your grandkids. You worried about presents cause you never wanted any of us to feel forgotten. Your house was always home. Never was a morning person, anytime before noon was early and you had your house cleaned and dinner done by 2. Definitely weren’t a typical grandma… you didn’t wear cute little aprons and have snacks baking in the oven. You gossiped, cussed, and was so very stubborn. You didn’t like to ask nobody for anything and you could either be generous to a fault or really mean at times. There was no in between. Minimal cooking skills and you complained about the food we’d make but that’s ok, we complained about yours too. Last time I saw you bake cookies I could’ve hurt somebody with it. Even in your last month here, you had your granddaughter Osania making sure to have your soda on hand cause water was the true enemy in your household.

One of your worst defensive mechanisms was to dislike somebody before they could look down on you. I don’t think your mind ever let you believe you were good enough. You struggled internally and your moods could change direction suddenly. I realize now you were what we needed you to be even if we didn’t understand it. Indirectly you taught us life skills, how to make enchilada crap, the importance of mental health and to stand up for ourselves. Pop protected you and the family when you were at risk being sent to a concentration camp and from that he passed on the most important skill that we all have embedded in us and that’s the need to survive. You were the glue that bounded us all together and I’m not sure if that bond will still hold. Or maybe we all need to start fresh and get to know each other again without you.

In your final moments, I hope you found peace in your daughter Alice’s arms as you took your last breath. I hope you know the strength you instilled in your granddaughter Osania when she took care of you and how you pushed her past the limits she thought she was capable of.

Your survived by your estranged brother Manuel, 6 children, Tommy “Chubby” Barraza, Alice Morales, Julie Morales-Barnett, Lawrence “Larry” Gonzales, Henry & Phillip Arroyo. You raised 2 grandchildren, Angelo Morales & Mariah Arroyo, survived by many grandchildren, great grandchildren and numerous nieces and nephews.

Preceded in death by your parents Joe and Bernice Tominaga, your siblings Joe Jr., Alice, Arthur & Big Tom Fernandez who were all waiting with open arms to welcome you and to finally have that piece of your heart you’ve been missing all these years and embrace the baby you lost, Adrian.

You are home.

Hearing trains in the distance, birds chirping at dawn, and now butterflies will always be a constant reminder of you.

Why can’t we remember the good in the living until they’re gone?