Dear Flori

Flori Montante, July, 2011 at Palisades
(celebrating a belated birthday)

Thank you, Miss Flori, for all you brought to my life. You were vivacious and passionate, with seemingly endless energy. Today you left this plane for another and I am left feeling grateful to have been a small part of your world.

You were a gift to me in so many ways. Because of Festal and Pagdiriwang, I came to know you, and get a glimpse of the culture you dearly loved and worked so hard to keep alive. And I think you felt like educating others was part of what you were put here to do. I'd say you were successful.

How many times did we sit around your dining room table and you shared the details (and chocolate, and of course some Filipino treats...) of your Pacific island heritage, what it meant to be Filipino, a teacher, a mother, a grandmother, a performer, an artist, a daughter, and a festival producer - in no particular order but all important? The courage it took to leave your home for another an ocean away. The care you showed for your people - family, friends, colleagues, the young, the old, the talented, the successful, the poor, the well-to-do - was always evident. And saying you loved music would be inadequate.

"Auntie Flori." Community matriarch. I know how you struggled with letting go and letting younger generations build on what you created; you had a vision. Your standards were high and hard to meet, and the time and cultural expressions changed. But you left a legacy that will be remembered at unexpected times.

We talked just before Christmas about celebrating our birthdays again. We were going to talk about those last little pieces you wanted me to add to your bio that we had already added to several times. You didn't want to leave anything out. I know I suggested cutting some detail and emphasizing highlights, but we left most of it in, just in case. But Flori - you accomplished more in your 80+ (86? 87?) years than many could in two lifetimes of equal years. Would you ever have felt like you did enough? You demanded a lot of attention and wanted the credit you worked so hard for. But you were also quick to call out the successes of others, and give credit where it was due. Your appreciation of me was a gift, too; you always let me know. I'm glad I could be there to help when you asked.

Beautiful, gracious, proper, and (mostly) always put together, I will miss your laugh and how you loved to have fun, dress up, and be the "friendly" hostess. And there's no replacing your flair for the dramatic or the mischievous sparkle in your eyes. I will treasure the conversations, how you'd shout "Laura!!!" with enthusiasm when I'd call, the lunches, dinners, and ... we even went to a theatre production oh so long ago. I didn't tell you then but Forrest was terrified by your driving. But even he appreciated your zest for life (just not sorry to learn you weren't driving anymore, I'll be honest, if only because he was afraid for you...). I have no idea now where we went, but I know we had a good time. I even felt like part of your big extended family when you invited me to events like your 80th birthday party and the celebration at China Harbor - the occasion of which I've also forgotten.

I'm not sure how to honor you but somehow it feels important that I do. So many in my family left this world too young. Maybe that's why I so appreciated your vitality and effervescence. You were feisty and spoke up about injustices or when you weren't happy about something, too. A Sagittarian trait you modeled well. I think you only recently really slowed down. And I know there was more you still wanted to do; I think you knew this was coming and you wanted to take care of anything unfinished. I think you did plenty, Miss Flori.

Perhaps I'll gather a friend or two and raise a fizzy pink drink in your name at Palisades. Big glass, little umbrella. It wasn't your birthday, but who was going to argue with a little old lady who insisted it was?

As one of our mutual friends said in an email message, "Dear Flori, she was crazy and maddening and impossible, but I loved her spirit and I will miss her so much."

Well said. Me, too.