Editors’ Note: Originally written on November 9, 2013, this article about Merci Melchor (b. November 9, 1928 – d. August 25, 2013) first appeared in the book, HOMAGES & HISTORIES: Family & Friends, Nagueños & Moros, Rebels & Soldiers, Warriors & Peacemakers, by Soliman M. Santos Jr., Ateneo University Press, May 31, 2021.

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My mother MERCEDES MELCHOR SANTOS, also known by her artist’s name MERCI MELCHOR — and simply as MERCI to most of her contemporaries among family, friends, and acquaintances, as well as MOMCIE to her grandchildren and to those who have worked with her daughter Rayla/ Sam in preschool education and women’s and children’s rights advocacy – would have turned 85 this November 9. But she passed away last August 25. Her obituary described her as:

Wonderful Artist

Unforgettable Teacher

Women’s & Children’s Advocate

Great, Grand, Mother

This article attempts to say a bit more about these roles, at least most of them, although more about the first and last than about others-in celebration of Merci/ Momcie, her memory and her legacy. This is written for her grandchildren and great-grandchildren, as much as for all those who celebrate her life as it has touched them.

She was born on 9 November 1928 in Manila and named MERCEDES CARIDAD MELCHOR Y BARZA, the eldest of three children of Alejandro Melchor y Salguero of Ibajay, Aklan and Catalina Barza y Aldea of Roxas City, Capiz. Her father Alejandro Melchor is the one of Melchor Hall fame, both the Melchor Halls of the University of the Philippines (UP) College of Engineering in Diliman, Quezon City (QC) and of the Philippine Military Academy (PMA) in Baguio City. He was a professor of engineering in both institutions, with his PMA stint resulting in his being commissioned as a Major and then eventually Colonel in the Philippine Army, including during the Second World War. And that may have made all the formative difference for my mother. Her early elementary school years were in Baguio from 1936 to 1940, while her later elementary and high school years were in the Virginia-Washington, D.C. area of the United States (US) from 1940 to 1946, including the years her father served with the Philippine Commonwealth government-in-exile there.

Her father upheld simple and disciplined living; no doubt enhanced by the military ethic then (which may not be the same as it is now). My mother gives full credit for her inner strength (which would show during family crises) and discipline (which would show in her work as an artist and a teacher) to her Army daughter’s upbringing under her father. He was very doting on his two daughters — my mother and her sister Conchita or “Chits,” while being quite strict in the disciplinary sense with his only son, my mother’s brother Alejandro Jr. or “Alex.” My mother traces the beginning of her love affair with art to when she was a 15-year-old student in the US. This story as well as about her development as an artist has been documented by writer Alya B. Honasan, one of whose Philippine Daily Inquirer Lifestyle section features about her in 1996 is a main reference for the artist part of this article. The other main reference is a written interview with her by her grandson Paolo “Skuey” as part of art class requirements.

Wonderful artist

It happened that my mother at age 15 won first prize in a national poster-making contest for the American Red Cross “and the subject was children,” she recalls, “I thought then, I’m going to have a wonderful career in the arts!” But her father insisted that there was no future in the arts and didn’t want his daughter “to go and paint Easter eggs.” With her ego balloon busted, as my mother put it, she was dissuaded from pursuing Fine Arts and went on to instead take up math (her father’s specialization) and education in college at UP and Centro Escolar University (CEU) in Mendiola, Manila and then in postgraduate studies at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. But her Cornell Master’s Degree in Educational Management and Administration included a Minor in Art and Design. The artist’s bent could just not be repressed.

As she once said, “They say you always go back to your first love. I’m so happy to be back in mine… I had always wanted to take up art. As a child, I was always drawing… But [later, between balancing work and domestic responsibilities] art would always be a part of my life. I would design costumes for stage plays [including Severino Montano’s dramas and operas], do illustrations for [children’s] books [and Dra. Paz Mendez’s handbook for students].” Art and crafts would very much be incorporated in her work as a teacher and educator, in her decade-long unlikely stint with two industrial corporations, in her women’s and children’s rights advocacy, and in her role as a “great, grand, mother.” But it was her work of pure art in painting and drawing that was her special defining endeavor. This comes through more clearly now that she has left us in this world, as we realize a deeper and more precious value to her art that may turn out to be her most lasting legacy.

Fast forward to Merci Melchor the artist, a mainstay of the Saturday Group of artists, both as one of its talents and as its executive director in the 1990s. In her heyday with the Saturday Group, she served under the leadership of such renowned artists as H.R. Ocampo, Cesar Legaspi, Onib Olmedo, and Mauro “Malang” Santos. Among the highlights of this period for her were her two solo exhibits in 1996, “Fascination” and “Impressions,” which both featured her best-seller signature pastel and oil paintings of flowers and leaves. These are in an uncomplicated, unpretentious, light-hearted, soothing, serene, and mostly bright and happy, style that has been the main mark of her paintings. And she explains the inspiration for this:

“Flowers have always fascinated me. They give us intense and universal pleasure. They celebrate our moods and emotions from joy to sadness. They mark the events, changes, and rituals in our lives such as birth, love, weddings, loss, peace and war. They symbolize something greater than ourselves because they remind us of the Great Artist… Being able to depict God’s creation is the discovery of life in art. Art in life is through the eyes of the beholder. I am fascinated by nature. The colors of flowers, leaves, the sky. Art books, my preference has always been the Impressionists [who] show a lot of art in life… [The words that she attaches to her art:] Fascination, wonder, awe, Creator… [Her favorite colors from nature:] Greens, blues, pinks, oranges, yellows.”

Aside from the underlying spirituality of connecting with or crediting the Creator, her art reflects what might be called her “flower philosophy” of life. “I like the bright side of life. I’m not a passive person; I really try to put a lot of life in my paintings… I don’t have a green thumb [for growing garden plants and flowers], so maybe this is my way for making up for it. It’s the next best thing to growing them, and you don’t have to water or fertilize them… I happen to feel that if the Lord gave you some kind of talent, you should use it. If you have a chance to create, take it, and share whatever discoveries you make… Life for an artist is one of privilege. First, not everyone has the talent to create and express oneself. Usually, the outcome is one of aesthetic value that can be appreciated by many, through time… [Being fascinated is simply about] a constant quest for life. You’ve got to stay interested in life, or you’re nothing but dead wood! Life is what you make out of it.” These all may be the most important messages of her art.

And Merci Melchor had grown in the esteem of the renowned artists of her time. Said Anita Magsaysay-Ho: “Merci is a fine, dedicated artist… Her paintings have a lot of movements, and her colors are pleasing. She is a very promising artist, and I think she would reach greater heights.” Said Malang: “Paintings mirror the artist’s soul. Nowhere is this most evident in Merci Melchor’s pastel masterpieces of delicately and exquisitely rendered flora. Merci employs subtle, impressive strokes to release the magic from her palette of vivid colors. And the variety of palpable textures so produced have imparted on her chosen subjects the indelible stamp of her uniquely individualistic spirit-yet sensible.” Said Romulo Olazo: “Sensitivity is the hallmark of Merci’s painting. This is seen in her use of light and her soft, delicate, feathery treatment of leaves and flowers-so reminiscent of the Impressionist period.” And said Edsel Moscoso: “Merci Melchor at her best could construct nature’s forms with poetic justice.” In fine, and to somehow sum up those renowned artist testimonials, she was an artist with (apologies to Jane Austen) “sense and sensibility.”

Yet, Merci Melchor was modest about the artist heights she had reached. As another Inquirer Lifestyle writer Joy Rojas quoted her during her banner year of 1996: “I’m still growing, and I think it’s nice to feel that way. Experimenting and learning through others have helped hone my talent tremendously, and I think that as a painter, one shouldn’t only grow artistically but as a person as well.” There were times when there were comments, including from friendly and well-meaning quarters, that she was not a “serious” artist, say when compared to her Saturday Group colleagues. She once addressed these comments by reasoning cheerfully, “Well, H.R. Ocampo was not a Fine Arts graduate, and I suppose a lot of the great masters were not schooled. I do have enough guts and determination, though.” But it actually took much prodding and even kantyawan from artist colleagues and faithful friends for her to finally brave her first solo exhibit in May 1996 at age 67 (more than 50 years after her winning Red Cross poster!).

She began “anew” by trying her hand at drawing after one fateful day chancing by with some friends at a nude sketching session at Taza de Oro café in downtown Manila where Cesar Legaspi noticed and challenged her, “Merci, here the women either draw or they pose,” she laughingly recollected, “Well, I certainly knew my limitations!” She later actually became serious enough to take lessons from the masters: nude sketching from Vicente Manansala and Jose Joya, oil painting from Ibarra de la Rosa, and etching and printmaking from Manuel Rodriguez Sr. She never failed to give credit to them. Their lessons were, one might say, some of the seeds that helped her grow the garden of her art. She herself describes, in the interview she gave grandson Paolo, how she developed her craft:

“By practicing, experimenting, being critiqued, reading, ‘fellowship-ing’ with other artists. By being disciplined, having the will to continue to learn and commit to improving your craft. The essential ingredients are: having talent, knowing and having the confidence in your talent, believing in one’s self, discipline… Contrary to the perception that artists are driven mostly by moods and whims, an artist must view his time with discipline. I was privileged to have known, worked with and observed the masters and national artists Vicente Manansala, Cesar Legaspi and H.R. Ocampo. They were disciplined artists. Mang Cesar would work in his studio from 8 in the morning, breaking only for lunch, and finish off at around 5. Of course there is a question of inspiration once in a while. I am of the belief that one needs to keep on drawing whether one has an upcoming show or not.”

Note that she mentions discipline no less than four times. This discipline is also shown in her attention to detail, or even perfectionism. In the particular craft of needlework, she had also engaged in or supervised, she would often redo it or have it redone if there was a misstep or it just didn’t look right to her. Her art or eye for beauty was natural or instinctive to her.

She further said in her interview by Paolo: “I spend more time with my art when I try to finish work for a one-woman show or group show or when I have been commissioned to do some paintings. Otherwise, I try to make it a habit to paint every day. My Saturdays are dedicated to the Saturday Group… Saturdays are usually spent with the group, painting still life, portraits or nudes. This is interesting because you are able to see at very close range how your fellow artists work. We also make it a point to critique each other.” Alya Honasan then wrote of my mother, “When she was at her canvas in the mornings, afternoons or wee hours (when she wakes up to respond to the call of inspiration), sitting in an airy little work area just outside her bedroom, she feels happy to be creating.” What she enjoyed most was “painting with classical music” in the background. That must have been like her heaven on earth.

My mother was a prolific artist, even in her senior years. During the unforgettable year of 1996, she logged at least seven solo and group exhibitions. At her first solo exhibit “Fascination” with flower paintings that year, artist guest of honor Anita Magsaysay-Ho took one look at her paintings on the walls of West Gallery at SM Megamall in Mandaluyong City, hugged her and encouragingly said, “Merci, don’t you ever stop painting!” And she never did — even with later bad arthritis and all — not until her body and painting hand were stopped by a bad second and final stroke in May 2013 at age 84, nearly 17 years since that first solo exhibit. Among other paintings and artwork, at least 160 commissioned oil and pastel paintings since then are found at Marco Polo Hotel in Davao City and at the Linden Suites in Pasig City. It was a personal joy for me to see some of them with the familiar Merci Melchor artist’s signature when I had opportunities to stay at those hotels, especially Marco Polo.

The familiar oil and pastel paintings, especially of her favorite floral theme, were not her only prolific artwork output. A second, major set of her artwork was her illustrations for children’s books and educational materials, and we shall go to this shortly. Before that, there is something else that has to be said to round things out about her involvement with the Saturday Group. Though officially once the executive director of the group, she was also said to be its “unofficial group, chronicler/secretary/high profile-guardian angel.” She did chronicle much of the work and activities of the group, including its out-of-town-and-country painting excursions like to Davao, Palawan and Bangkok, its “interaction” (collaborative) painting sessions, and most notably its leading artist lights. Her Philippine Star Life section pieces on H.R. Ocampo, Cesar Legaspi, Magoo Valencia and Bernardo “Banz” Bañez were important for the reading public’s art appreciation as well as for her own avowed continuing self-learning from the masters. And in the particular case of “Banz,” she coordinated the group’s fundraising painting raffle for him to help defray his medical expenses for leukemia, coining the raffle name “Banz-ai (Live long, Banz).” She was a good groupmate, a team player, a real trooper, “cowgirl” din, as they say.

My mother’s chronicles of the Saturday Group — which could make for a small compilation — showed her talent not only for art but also for writing. She does have some books to her credit, mainly children’s books that she also illustrated like the I Can Read series (A-E-I- O-U) and Those Huge Bones (about dinosaurs), but also the one she wrote which was illustrated by another for the Philippine Centennial in 1998 — Bandila: The Story of the Philippine Flag, published by the Tahanan Books for Young Readers. In her interview by Paolo, in answer to the question, “Are you searching for something to relish your art life to the fullest? What do you want to achieve?” she said: “I would want to produce books and paintings for Filipino children to remind them of their cultural heritage and past.” In my last talk with her, in May 2013 when she could still talk before the stroke took that away, she told me eagerly of a book project on distinctively Filipino children’s games that she had in mind to do in collaboration with her grandchildren: her crayon-pastel drawings of the games (about 30 already done) and their “verses” explaining the games (still to be done).

Those crayon-pastel drawings of distinctively Filipino children’s games are in another signature style of hers when it comes to illustrations for children — they are different in style from her Impressionist-inspired paintings of her favorite floral theme. If the latter showed her wonder about “the things I see” in Mother Nature, her illustrations for children capture their natural sense of wonderment and in a way also advocate that childhood should constitute the most wonderful years of life. Her signature style of illustrations for children have been recorded not only in several children’s books and handbooks but have been immortalized no less with some of them being adopted by Museo Pambata, the Philippine national museum for children, as motifs like the postcard drawing of a boy flying a dragonfly-design “Saranggola” (kite). An oil and pastel painting of “Parol” (Christmas star lantern) hoisted by children, that was part of a Saturday Group set commissioned by Manila Hotel, was among those selected for the hotel’s 1997 Christmas card. Also in the distinct children-oriented style of hers is her “Mother & Child” series of drawings. One of this was used for a limited edition of blue and white Noritake plates issued by the Catholic Women’s Club in 2004. Much earlier, she once crafted plates with core family trees as Christmas gifts to relatives. Such gifts of her artistic craft were the best and most memorable that family and friends would receive from her over the years. As we said earlier, her art played a part — a common denominator of sorts — in her other non-artist roles.

Unforgettable teacher

Among the unforgettable things in life are teachers and professors — whether the “terror” type (which my Dad was) and the really good, effective ones (which my Mom was). My mother taught math, English and humanities subjects at CEU and at the University of Nueva Caceres (UNC) in Naga City from 1952 (upon her return from Cornell) up to 1976. Her UNC stint came during our family’s stay in Naga from 1959 to 1963 because of my father’s “posting” there to administer his parents’ hacienda (big agricultural landholding) in Pili, Camarines Sur, while also being Dean of the new College of Engineering at UNC. My mother’s teaching stint was her first and longest working stint, spanning 24 years, thrice more than her short 8-year corporate work which followed. I still come across former students of hers, especially from her UNC years, who remember her fondly and never fail to express thanks for their learning well from her, in a way sharing the credit with her for their doing well enough in their careers after graduation. This would often include crediting in particular their learning the right English grammar, syntax and composition from her. Notable among these former students is a probinsyana/promdi from Iriga City — the lately acclaimed “model bureaucrat” Lilia B. de Lima, Director-General of the Philippine Economic Zone Authority (PEZA). If the test of the teaching pudding is in the eating, then this may as well as be it, as far as my mother’s teaching was concerned.

Because it wasn’t only the class lessons and the way she effectively taught them, with her love of arts and crafts inevitably coming into the literal picture as teaching aids-whether in curricular or extra- curricular activities. It was also the way she carried herself and related with students, in a way, whether she was conscious of it or not, made her a role model to them. This model was also that of a good family woman, because her students could not but often see her wholesome and happy small family with three young children around her in and out of campus, particularly during the UNC/Naga years.

Women’s and children’s rights advocate

My mother’s role as an advocate for women’s and children’s rights in the new millennium arose when her daughter’s marital problems came to a head in 2001. It did not take long before she started on this advocacy front with a one-woman initiative “Merci Melchor for Battered Women.” This advocacy notably took the form of a series of pamphlets — the Abuse Series, the Narcissist Series, and the Family Violence Prevention Series — all in all at least 10 easy-to-read primer-type pamphlets. Seeing these filled me with much more admiration for my mother, in her taking proactive action in support of her daughter victimized by a husband’s grave abuse and doing this in somewhat familiar activist mode while already in her 70s — considering that I and her second son Ricco/Ricky ourselves come from a 1970s radical student activist background. But she was just as serious about her women’s rights advocacy as she was about her art. Before producing those pamphlets, she researched and studied the related literature on the battered woman syndrome, domestic violence, and relevant personality disorders. She studied, analyzed and “primerized” the then new Republic Act No. 9262, the Anti-Violence Against Women and Their Children [VAWC] Act of 2004″– thus exploring my familiar field of law at her age 75 (well beyond the mandatory retirement age for judges and justices!). All these in support for her daughter victim of such violence as well as others similarly situated. Her mantra became “No one deserves abuse… You are not responsible for the violence… You are not alone…”

Her advocacy for children’s rights naturally followed from her advocacy of women’s rights -not only because of the adverse effects to the children of the marital discord of their parents and of witnessing wife abuse in particular, but also because of her earlier and continuing assistance to her daughter’s several preschool endeavors. Again, she did her homework of updating herself with self-study of the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child. How can one not come away impressed with this very senior citizen? – still improving her mind and making a social contribution in the twilight of her life. Her daughter’s current main initiative for the protection, empowerment and respect of women and children, the “I am SAM Foundation,” has SAM standing for “Shakers and Movers.” But it unofficially also stands for “Super Amazing Momcie,” because of her all-out support and inspiration role, one who is truly what her daughter calls “the wind beneath my wings”- and if I may add “the wonder of you,” really.

Great, grand, mother

Indeed, she epitomized the “total support” and unconditional love of a mother for her children, and of a grandmother for her grandchildren. She was after all, first and foremost, a family person. Art found a way only after or in between attending to domestic responsibilities and her own earning a living for the family. Duty to family and keeping a happy family life must have been ingrained in her as the eldest child of her growing-up years Melchor family of five. As her illustrious father died young at age 47 when she was 18, her mother Catalina or “Nena” was thrust into a madre de familia (literally, mother of the family) role but with her help like a “second mother” of sorts. Her mother was the consummate homemaker, no less a longtime home economics dean at CEU. Anywhere you put her, she always made the place look elegant. My mother was the Ate (eldest sister) not only to her siblings but also to her first cousins on her maternal Barza side, which figured more in her extended family life. By all accounts, she was a much loved, esteemed and fun-leading eldest girl cousin called “Merceditas” and then “Moi” among the Barza first cousins — who were a bunch of “army brats” because her Army Colonel father had introduced her mother’s four Barza sisters to fellow Army officers in Baguio who would eventually become their husbands. It was natural for her to be the one who carried (nagdala at nagdalang tiyempo) her own family of five through the years since her marriage to Engineer Soliman S. Santos of Parañaque, Rizal in 1952, both of them at age 24. They met during their college years, which for him was fully at UP, while she was there only in 1946-47 before continuing at CEU in 1947-50. They both did post-graduate studies in the US in 1951-52, she at Cornell and he at the Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) in Cambridge, Massachusetts. The early family years — the children’s elementary and high school years — especially when we lived in Jacob Extension, Naga City and in Philamlife Homes, QC, were like our Camelot years, largely due to Mom. She was also the consummate homemaker who made sure everything was covered in the household, in our schoolwork, and in our family special day gatherings and outings. She was the gracious host for dinners, small parties, and other get-togethers at home for relatives and friends, including the children’s friends. In fact, this would continue into our college years when we lived in Dama de Noche St., Balete Drive, QC, part of the time there with her mother, our maternal grandmother whom we grandchildren called “Owa” (my corrupted version of “Lola”). We had the benefit of a happy family life up to college, thanks largely to Mom.

She was our family’s rock — or I should say anchor and North star, her preferred naval or nautical symbols – who held together and guided the family in the best and worst of times. She was the anchor during the storms like the highs and lows in our Dad’s life, starting as early as our happy Naga years — sheltering us from this until after our adolescence and we children were mature enough to deal with it. She was the pillar of strength during the dark times like the early martial law years when I was arrested and detained after a military intelligence unit aided our Dama de Noche house where an underground mimeographing machine was stationed, and when my brother went incommunicado underground as far as Mindanao. It was she who faced the military raiders respectfully but bravely and collectedly while the rest of us in the household were still in unbelieving shock. It was she who provided the safety net of love and moral support, the “footprints in the sand,” when her daughter went down and nearly out from her marital crisis and related cancer. It was she who filled in with bringing up the two boys — children of her daughter when the parents could not attend to it, for one reason or another, and especially during that crisis.

Most poignant is her letter to one of those boys, her grandson Rafael “Buffy,” that was published in the 1999 Museo Pambata book Letters from Lolo & Lola. Here is an excerpt from that “My dear Buffy” letter of hers:

“When you were still a tyke of three, you asked a question that still fascinates me up to this day — Momcie, what are grandmothers for?’ My answer was short and sweet — Grandmothers are for loving nice little boys like you!’

“…I found that the job came with no descriptions, no credentials, no explanations. So, I followed my mother’s advice: ‘Relax and enjoy the company of your grandchildren… and let that love flow freely.

“You’re a bit older now, Buffy-no longer the little tyke of three summers. But from shared moments with you, I have transformed to a grandmother who:

– Paints Easter eggs and hides them for kids to find. [My note: In the end, her father’s wish for her not “to go paint Easter eggs” was defeated, but I think now with his heavenly approval and self-criticism for being proven wrong.]

– Arrives 1-2 hours early for your piano recital so she can get the best seat in the auditorium.

– Makes your Halloween costume and then pretends she does not recognize you when you appear at the front door for ‘Trick or Treat.’

– Sews on buttons and torn pants while silently wishing you would not grow up too fast.

– Mends your toy truck because you make her feel she’s the world’s greatest ‘repairman.’

– Reads you a bedtime story but falls asleep after page two.

– Buys anything you make, from painted stones to recycled boxes.

– Hangs your drawings because she treasures them like the Louvre masterpieces.

– Takes nature walks with you and is amazed at your knowledge of leaves and your fascination with cacti.

– Proudly shows your snapshots to her ‘barkada’ and her hairdresser.

– Reads the encyclopedia to see what your turtle eats.

– Makes paper planes for you to fly.

– Watches PBA games and wildly roots for your favorite team.

– Makes learning about fractions more interesting by cutting up a Shakey’s pizza.

– Plays silly games and magic tricks, thus reliving her moments of youth.

– Cherishes your bed hugs and smiles which drive away the cares and worries at the end of each trying day.

– Blooms when she hears you say, ‘I love you, Momcie.”

“People say children learn from their grandparents. I often think it is the other way around. I am rejuvenated by your energy, your sense of adventure and exhilaration. I can never be old when I am with you, my dear, you are a very special grandchild. You are precious because YOU ARE BUFFY.

“PS. Keep this letter, Buffy. You might be able to use it when you too become a grandparent.”

A real legacy, this. And again, what self-effacing humility a grandmother no less acknowledging that she was learning from her grandchildren. She had nine grandchildren and six great-grandchildren. And of course, three children before all that. And just like it was when she was a happy artist at work, she didn’t mind getting down and dirty, looking silly, and losing her poise when she was playing with her kids and grandkids. She played baseball with Ricky and me during our time as kids. She could laugh at herself and didn’t mind looking ridiculous, being the butt of the joke, especially in our family costume-theme get-togethers for Christmas and her birthday during the past decade. The past decade or so made up her “golden years” of connecting with her grandchildren in particular who were growing up fast, at a time when her body aches and pains were still manageable to occasionally even play parlor games and otherwise have fun with them. She gave precious real time with them, calling, talking, caring about their concerns and problems. It was for them mainly that she was called “Momcie,” an obvious combination of “Mom” and “Merci”—maybe with a bit of residual vanity of earlier years to avoid the old-sounding “Lola Merci.” She was already for some time “Tita Merci” or “Tita Ci” to our cousins. But the name “Momcie” took over when it came.

Her name in official documents is Mercedes Melchor Santos. Many of her colleagues as well as students and employees in CEU, UNC, the Philippine Appliance Corporation (PHILACOR) and the Golden Needle/ Heacock Corporation, spanning from 1952 to 1986, knew her as Merci Santos, or Prof. Santos, or simply Mrs. Santos. Not a few must have wondered or still wonder, why did she drop the Santos when she made her name as the artist Merci Melchor? Well, by that time, she was already estranged from my father, it was an assertion of her separate status and identity. She was “super,” as we said, but she was also human. She had (forgive the pop song lines) “carried the weight a long time” and “women do get weary.” She also had to take care of herself, of her life and of otherwise being the best that she could be under the circumstances. We who were by then grown-up children, with our own families, did our parts, took our turns, in taking care of Dad, especially during his last 12 bed-ridden years till he passed away in 2002.

She was “super” but she was also human. She could be loving and caring to a fault, as they say, though it was not always or even mostly her fault. As she grew older, especially in her final decade, she wanted to leave a legacy for her grown-up children (and ultimately her grown-up grandchildren and growing-up great-grandchildren) — naturally wanting to leave them a more comfortable life. It occupied her thoughts and weighed heavily upon her in her final years — even at a time when she should have been at rest and at peace with all her achievements. But the chance to leave a comfortable legacy was stolen from her by her abusive former son-in-law-whom she loved like a son but who took advantage of her love and care, and then betrayed her maternal trust.

And yet she has left another, better legacy to her brood: her creative, not just artistic, bent; her precious real time with them and their fond memories of her; and the legacy of her example and life lessons. Of course, her art and her advocacy and educational contributions — which are not so much for her brood as they are for others and the broader community to appreciate or to benefit from, not in a financial way. For her brood and for others she graced with her life, her name says it all for Merci (French for thanks). Thanks for everything — for” all the things you are.” I must end by adding the unique Bikol thanks of Dios mabalos (God will repay).

The header image features original art “Mother and Child” paintings by Ang Kiukok, Cesar Legaspi, Jose Joya and Mauro “Malang” Santos. These were featured in the all occasion notecards For Women and Children by Merci Melchor published by I am SAM Foundation.