in our genes

Home at last, though exhausted and sick. But so thankful to finally be home.

The weekend was long and intense: Three days straight of Catholic mourning. And not just any Catholic mourning -- Filipino Catholic mourning, which seems to be much more rigorous -- like an ultramarathon of grief. I have never heard the rosary prayed so many times. There was also a novena that had the phrases "gnawing worm," "bloody sweat," "horrible darkness" and "intolerable cold." And there were multiple Masses. And public wailing. And four hours of sitting with the open casket.

But it was interesting to hear the stories about my grandmother. Everyone who spoke said something about how much she loved food and how she was always offering it. It truly was the way she communicated. After the viewing Sunday, the whole family went to my grandmother's favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered all the dishes she used to get.

And my cousins and I definitely proved ourselves to be her grandchildren through and through this weekend. On Saturday night, we got some time on our own, so we tracked down the legendary Kogi BBQ truck, whose marriage of Mexican food and Korean barbecue are what many believe to be heaven. I had a short rib taco (which was just as amazing as everyone promised), a Korean tofu taco (I think I am going to crave this for the rest of my life) and a Kogi dog (this was good, but really over-the-top -- check out the photo above -- I think you have to be drunk to truly appreciate it). And then we went to a churro truck a few blocks down the street and got bags of freshly fried churros.

We stuffed ourselves silly. And in a way, it was like she was still feeding us.