We miss you, Aunty Setsu

Yesterday, March 2, marked the third anniversary of my Aunty Setsu's passing. This is a photo I took of her several years ago. She liked it so much that she asked me to make her copies to give away. She's cooking in the picture, something she loved to do. I think it's the way that she wanted to be remembered, cooking something delicious for people she loved.

I was honored to be asked to do her eulogy. This is what I wrote and said at her funeral:

Setsu Baba was born on December 14, 1920, the fourth child and fourth daughter of Sadajiro and Misao Baba. She was born near the old Liliha Theater, where her friend Elroy Chong’s office is now. She attended Lanakila School and Kawananakoa Intermediate. After graduating from eighth grade, she went to Sewing School, where she learned a trade that would become her career for the rest of her life. Like many Japanese girls of that time, she went to work as a maid in a Caucasian household. Because they could not say, “Setsu,” she was called “Agnes.” However, she hated it there because she was away from home and had to iron all the time. She cried so much that she was sent home. She began working at Jack & Jill as a seamstress, making children’s clothes on Fort Street downtown. However, she soon had the chance to open her own shop. Her relatives, the Hashimotos, operated a barber shop and lived in a two story house on Liliha Street. Her older sister Haru had a sewing shop right next door to the barber shop in the same building. When the Hashimotos moved to Kapahulu after the war and Aunty Haru got married and closed that shop, the building was renovated by the owners, Mr. & Mrs. Au. The owners then turned the front of the building into the Kunawai Fountain, an old-fashioned soda fountain and store, and Aunty Setsu opened her sewing shop in the back. She had so many customers over the years; many of them stayed with her their whole lives. But she was not just their dressmaker, she was their friend and confidante, a part of their families. She made so many friends in the neighborhood, and everyone knew who she was. She was such a naturally warm and caring person. I remember watching her from across the street as she made her way down Liliha Street to the market. She kept stopping to talk to people as she made her way down the street, strangers and friends alike, in her trademark gingham-checked sleeveless dresses that she made herself. Aunty was always sharing with us stories about all of the people she knew. If it was anyone else, maybe you could call it gossiping, but in her case, it was really just talking story. I never heard her talk badly about any of her friends, she just talked about them because she cared about them and people were so interesting to her. She also talked a lot about her nieces and nephews…she was always so proud of everyone. You’ve heard about “coconut wireless,” well, Aunty was “Aunty wireless.” That’s how my cousins and I would keep up with what was going on with each other, even though we didn’t see each other except for holidays. Aunty would have all the latest updates. Even though Aunty Setsu never married and had children of her own, she helped to raise so many children over the years, in her little dress shop. All of her nieces and nephews spent time over there, after school and during the summers, playing with each other and the neighborhood kids. She used to take us on the bus to the beach, to the zoo, to the movies, to Chinatown to go shopping. I remember going to Omochaya, the Japanese toy store on King Street, which was always fun, and Musashiya, the fabric store, where the sizing on the fabrics used to make my eyes sting. You know, everywhere we went, Aunty would know the shopkeepers so well and talk story with all of them. The funny thing about going to the movies was that she would be sitting there with us until the lights went out, and then she would sleep for the entire movie, getting up when the lights came back on. Probably tired from dragging the kids all over the place on the bus! We also all enjoyed just hanging out at her shop with her and each other, reading comics, getting snacks from the Fountain, and watching soap operas. My sister and cousins and I were sharing our memories about Aunty Setsu and it’s funny that we all seem to have had similar childhood experiences with her. We were all spread apart in ages (my oldest cousins Marcus and Roy were 20 years older than me), but she took care of all of us throughout the years. My parents both worked and Babachan and Ji-chan took care of my sister Jan and me from when we were babies. Everyday before school and after school, we’d be at their house. Aunty took care of us too, making us jello with fruits inside for after school snacks and okai when we were sick, and even taking us to the doctor in the taxi. She was always the caregiver. She patiently took care of Babachan at home until she died, and lovingly cared for Aunty Millie when she got sick. One of the ways that Aunty spread her love was through her sewing. Every baby got chanchanko vests and blankets, our Barbie dolls were the most fashionably dressed with homemade outfits, and we all had clothes that she lovingly made for us. My dad said that every September, she made him a fresh set of shirts for school. She taught us how to sew during the summers, helping us make our wardrobes for the coming school year. I was always so proud of the outfits we created together. She was a part of every milestone in our lives, not just by being there, but also because of the clothes she made for us for the occasions. Everyone had special shirts or dresses for graduation, parties or other special occasions. And I will always treasure the wedding gown she made for me, painstakingly sewing on hundreds of beads and yards of lace by hand. Another way that Aunty showed her love was through her cooking. We grew up eating all the good food she made, and even when we were grown up we’d get the call to stop by and pick up food because she made shortribs or roast chicken or namasu. She was always giving of herself…even when we had family parties, she would cook all day and grill the meat outside, and then not eat until everyone else had eaten. When she made laulaus, she would make different ones for different people because not everybody liked the same fillings, and she would tie different colored strings around them to tell them apart. All of her life, Aunty Setsu had all kinds of ailments, some so serious that she had to have surgery. But she never complained about it and didn’t show it to us. She was so strong, overcoming obstacles. She had a knee that would give out sometimes…she said it was because one of her sisters kicked it when they used to sleep in the same bed when they were little, and it would dislocate. So late in life, she developed a phobia about crossing streets because she was afraid of falling when she stepped off the curb. But she worked on it and was able to overcome this. Even when she got sick with leukemia last July, she decided to fight it, enduring transfusions and treatments and hospital stays for so many months. She would say that she was getting tired of fighting sometimes, but had to keep going because her heart was so strong. But she was getting weaker and the transfusions were no longer helping her as they used to. On February 23, when she went to the hospital again, she decided not to have any more treatments, and that she was ready to go. She eventually got weaker and weaker, but still retained her sense of humor. She probably had the most visitors of everyone else in the hospital because all of her kids had to come and see her almost everyday. One time, a lot of people came at one time and kissed her, so she said that she had to wash her face now because of all the kisses. She was also typically concerned about everyone, telling them to go home because it was getting late. Sometimes she would be so tired, she would drift off, and each time she opened her eyes, someone new would be there to see her. On the afternoon of March 2, we got the call that Aunty had passed. I was so sad, but at the same time, I felt relieved that she would not suffer any more. It was the most difficult thing to see our Aunty Setsu, who had always been so vital, so alive and energetic, become so frail and tired. But she has so many people on the other side waiting to welcome her home. I know we will all be together again one day. Thank you, Aunty Setsu, for everything you’ve done for us. We loved you, but it was the best thing knowing we were loved right back.