Silvia Aguinaga de Martinez

June 1, 1958 — July 19, 2026

Silvia Martinez stood less than 5 feet tall and took up every room she ever walked into.

Born on June 1, 1958 in Mexico City, Mexico, Silvia came into this world small and fragile, with doctors giving little hope she would survive. God had different plans — and Silvia spent the next 68 years proving every doubt wrong.

She was a spirited and fearless child — the kind who broke her arm, jumped over fires, and settled disagreements with her fists when necessary. She grew up in humble circumstances but carried herself with a dignity that needed no wealth to sustain it. Against all odds she became a nurse — a calling that would define her life of service.

Her first day of work at Children's Hospital in Mexico City was September 19, 1985 — the same morning a devastating earthquake shook the city to its foundation. The building collapsed before she could begin her shift. Without hesitation Silvia stayed and volunteered her skills for days in the aftermath — caring for others in the middle of chaos. It was perhaps the most perfect introduction to who she was.

Life tested her again when during her last pregnancy she was diagnosed with diabetes and after giving birth doctors once more gave little hope she would survive due to severe weight loss. Once more God had different plans. Silvia, gathered the little strength she had, and set her eyes on a new horizon — the United States.

She arrived in America in the late 1980's with determination, and an unshakeable work ethic. She took every job that came her way — manager at Carl's Jr., housekeeper, convalescent kitchen worker, — never too proud for honest work, never willing to do it halfway. Then came Kaiser Permanente, where she dedicated over 20 years of her life. Her broken English was never an impediment. Her standard of excellence was legendary — loved deeply by those who shared it and perhaps less appreciated by those who preferred shortcuts. Silvia had no patience for shortcuts.

She was feisty, opinionated and strong willed — things were her way or the highway and she made no apologies for it. But underneath that toughness lived one of the most compassionate hearts you would ever find. She showed up for people. She served. She gave. She cared deeply even when she would never admit it with a hug.

She did not show love through hugs and kisses. She believed love was not a word — it was something you proved through acts of service, through showing up, through doing what needed to be done. And if a beautiful gift happened to accompany that love — well, she certainly would not object.

She danced with joy, wept when Rocío Dúrcal passed, kept orchids in her home, and took immense pride in keeping herself beautiful — her appearance always intentional.

Her faith was the foundation of everything. Raised Catholic, she found a new spiritual home in the Christian faith fifteen years ago — volunteering at services, attending pastoral school, and living her belief that God's plans are always greater than our own. Her life was proof of that truth.

Silvia is survived by her husband, her children, grandchildren, extended family, and the many lives she touched.

She was preceded in death by her mother and her youngest sister, who went before her to prepare the way.