Jorge Portugues Aranzamendez

Jorge Português Aranzamendez, age 84, a resident of San Marcos, California, and formerly of Banyan Heights, Mangilao, Guam, passed away peacefully at his home on February 26, 2024. Born in Manila, Philippines, on March 2, 1939, to Pedro and Margarita Aranzamendez, Jorge was the beloved brother of Jun (deceased), Efren (deceased), Roberto, Norma A. Marfilla (deceased), and Freida A. José.

He graduated from the University of the East in Manila in 1965 and became a Certified Public Accountant in 1968.

In 1972, Jorge moved to Guam, embarking on a new chapter in pursuit of the American Dream. He established a successful career as an accountant, quickly becoming a trusted and respected figure within the community. His clientele ranged from prominent businesses to local family-owned shops, a testament to his expertise and integrity.

However, Jorge’s life extended beyond balance sheets and profit margins. Outside the office, he indulged in his passions: reading, sightseeing, dining out, playing chess, singing heartfelt renditions at karaoke, and watching basketball and boxing. His later years were enriched by watching travel and food blogs on YouTube.

Affectionately known as Jiji, Jorge was a paragon of kindness and generosity. He not only extended warmth to friends and family but also shared his blessings with others. His heart brimmed with compassion, and he tirelessly advocated for his relatives, ensuring they too could partake in the fruitful opportunities he found in America.

In 2019, seeking proximity to loved ones and to enjoy California’s idyllic weather and landscapes, Jorge and his wife relocated to San Diego.

Jorge’s legacy lives on through his beloved wife, Leonida Geronimo Aranzamendez; his son, Jansen Geronimo Aranzamendez and partner Maryusha Concepcion; his daughter, Leniely Aranzamendez Wilson and son-in-law Matthew Wilson; and his four grandchildren: Tierra, Tyce, Tyler Wilson, and Mahrii C. Aranzamendez. His commitment to his profession, his community, and above all, his family, will be forever cherished by those who knew him.

As we bid farewell to Jorge, we entrust his spirit to our Creator, remembering him as a beacon of hard work, familial devotion, and joy. His life story stands as a tribute to the values he held dear, and we honor his memory by celebrating the remarkable journey he shared with us.

Eulogy

Today, we gather to celebrate the life of my beloved father, Jorge Aranzamendez. His journey was one of resilience, love, and unwavering determination. As I stand here, memories flood my mind—snapshots of shared laughter, sound advice, and quiet loving moments that shaped who I am today.

My father’s childhood was marked by adversity. Raised by a widowed mother of six, he experienced firsthand the taste of struggle. I remember him recalling a time when his mother would return home with meager offerings—peanuts and bruised banana discards from the market. Yet, even in scarcity, my father learned resilience. He vowed that when he had the means, he would savor good food, an aspiration he held close to his heart, especially during his final years.

Despite facing numerous health challenges from a young age, such as tuberculosis of the bone, which impacted the length of his right limb and led to a recognizable limp that endured throughout his life. Furthermore, an ear infection from swimming left his eardrum scarred and affected his hearing. Nevertheless, despite these setbacks, my dad remained steadfast in pursuing his dreams.

His life and career in Guam were “deeply fulfilling, fruitful, and blessed, “ as he eloquently expressed in a letter titled "The Fulfillment." This letter, recounting his journey over the past 30 years, was shared among former classmates from the Philippines during a reunion in Las Vegas over 15 years ago. Despite being typed on reused Leun Fung paper, a testament to his frugality, the letter meticulously details every academic pursuit and career milestone.

I have countless cherished childhood memories of my dad. I can still hear the soothing melodies of sentimental jazz ballads echoing through our home. I remember watching him diligently work at his desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, his reading glasses perched low on his nose, while his smooth voice filled the air. His favorite singers included Frank Sinatra, Engel Humperdink, Johnny Mathis, Sarah Vaughan, and Perry Como, among others. During the holidays, the classic tunes of Bing Crosby and Nat King Cole would resonate throughout the house. That genre and style of music will forever remind me of my father.

Another vivid memory was the sight of my dad rhythmically tapping on the keys of his adding machine for minutes while his left finger glided down the columns of figures in oversized ledgers. As a child, I watched in amazement as he effortlessly totaled up the numbers without even glancing at the screen, always arriving at a final total that perfectly balanced the books.

A funny memory was during tax season when the phone would ring endlessly. I remember one caller leaving a message with a distinct accent: “Georgie, Georgie, this is Mr. Chan,” followed by a string of indecipherable words. I asked my father how he managed to understand it all. He chuckled and replied, “Oh, I've been working with them for so long that I understand their English. And remember, I'm part Chinese.”

One thing that stands out in my memory is how he consistently supported his family in the Philippines. He regularly sent money back home to Mama Titay without hesitation. He advised nephews hoping to follow in his footsteps. During the holidays, he would discreetly slip checks into envelopes, ensuring everyone celebrated with abundance.

In addition to his generosity, he exemplified humility and simplicity. I recall suggesting he upgrade his car to something more luxurious when I was in high school, but he firmly stood by his trusty Honda Accord. He explained that he preferred not to arrive in a fancier car than his clients, fearing they might perceive him as wealthy and hesitate to pay his higher fees, thinking he didn't deserve it. He followed this with a laugh, suggesting that staying incognito and discreet was preferable.

But unselfishly, when it came to his loved ones, he didn’t hesitate to splurge. Just one day before my 16th birthday, he surprised me with a brand-new 1994 V8 Ford Mustang–a gesture of generosity whose magnitude I didn't fully grasp at the time.

My father was always a meticulous planner, a testament to his care and thoughtfulness for his family. Even up to his funeral, he had everything arranged. In 2020, amidst the pandemic, he began inquiring about burial plots in California, expressing his wish to be laid to rest there. Despite my initial hesitation, he reassured me, emphasizing that it was for my peace of mind. During the cemetery tour, he humorously insisted on an upright headstone vs. a gravestone to prevent people from stepping on his grave. He even entertained the idea of purchasing plots for the entire family, so we could all be together.

My dad was a man who always went after what he wanted, a trait that shone brightly the moment he first saw my mom at an air conditioning company in Manila.

Struck by her beauty on the day she walked in to apply for an administrative position, he made sure to keep tabs on her after she got the job. He enlisted his friends in the admin department to update him on her arrivals each morning and even inform him about the color of her outfit for the day.

He recounted how he'd concoct excuses, such as needing something printed, purely as a means to strike up a conversation with her and seize the opportunity to see her.

After departing the company for job prospects in the US and years later securing his first modest home in Guam, my dad went back to the unforgettable woman, my mom, and proposed. In 1975, he took her to Guam, marking the beginning of their family life and shared adventure.

My mom played a crucial role in his success, supporting the family in every other aspect. Always meeting our needs at home. One occasion, I remember my mom dressed up, wearing pink lipstick, a nice outfit, climbing up a ladder with a hammer in hand to fix a faulty typhoon window shutter. She truly did it all. My mom explained that she couldn't wait for my dad, who was always busy, so she took it upon herself to tackle tasks independently.

Witnessing my mom’s deep love and devotion to my dad in his last years deeply touched me, highlighting their strong, lifelong bond as they neared their golden anniversary. Her determination to care for him at home, despite the immense challenges and fatigue, showcased her profound dedication and the essence of unconditional love. It was a moving testament to the enduring power of commitment and love through adversity. Just days before my dad passed away, I witnessed his last act of love towards my mom, a poignant farewell. Grief had already set in, as my dad became unresponsive, his eyes closed and his mouth open due to muscle weakness. When my mom approached him, overcome with sadness, she wept uncontrollably, apologizing for his suffering and reassuring him of our care. In that moment, my dad mustered all his remaining strength to raise his arms in a final embrace, his eyes struggling to open. "I love you, I love you," she sobbed into his ear. He softly nodded and made a sound, as if trying to echo her words. It was a deeply moving scene of love and farewell.

Cooking was another realm where my father’s influence shone. Although my mother handled most of the kitchen duties, he always added his touch—a twist of Jorge’s magic. He’d call me to the stove, sometimes lifting me onto the counter when I was young. With a spatula in hand, he’d blow on the steaming sauce, waiting for it to cool. Then he’d ask, “What do you think? Sarap na? (Translated , is it good?) Or should we add more Patis (fish sauce)?” His secret ingredient seemed to be an extra pinch of salt—his culinary signature.

In recent years, I inquired about his love for gourmet dining. His response was simple: “Why not? I’m retired, and I’ve worked hard for it!” His taste buds craved adventure—the melt-in-your-mouth Wagyu steak, the delicate Toro grade sashimi, the buttery yellowtail, and the indulgent lobster and abalone. Oyster, with its briny sweetness, became a delicacy he sought out. Perhaps those food blog channels on YouTube fueled his cravings, but they also ignited a passion for culinary exploration.

So whenever I visited their condo, if for example, a Tokyo blogger's video was playing, I'd tease him, saying, "Does this mean we'll be having Japanese food today?" His eyes would twinkle, and we'd share a laugh. But it wasn't just about the cuisine; it was about embracing life's joys. I sensed that my dad understood his time was drawing to a close, and relishing food was one of the things he truly lived for.

Over the past four years in San Diego, I’ve cherished every conversation with my father. As an adult and a parent myself, I’ve delved into topics I never explored as a young teen. His wisdom, his stories, and his unwavering love have left an indelible mark on my soul. I respect the choices he made—the sacrifices, the triumphs, and the quiet victories.

I feel incredibly blessed to have him as a father, I'm going to miss his daily "I love you" greetings, his warm, long hugs, and our daily chats about current events and his simple words of advice. The outpouring of condolences after his passing, and hearing from people I hadn't heard from in a while about the impact he had on them, left me both shocked and happy. It truly reflected the kind of man he was.

In closing, I can imagine my dad would want to end this speech with words from one of his favorite singers, Frank Sinatra, echoing the sentiment of living life on one's own terms:

“Regrets, I've had a few

But then again, too few to mention

I did what I had to do

And saw it through without exemption

I planned each chartered course

Each careful step along the byway

But more, much more than this

I did it my way……”

Rest in Heaven, Dad

Love, your daughter