(Author’s note. This is our Valentine story for 2026, inspired by my visit with a friend to his mother Martha, 88 years old, in a home for the elderly in Storrs, Connecticut, USA, circa 1990.)

MARTHA: Son, bring me home to Vigan (Ilocos Sur, Philippines) so I can die there. Either that or ask someone to teach me how to commit suicide.

David knew Martha would probably not survive the 17-hour flight. So he asked his wife, Lisa, to help boost her morale. Lisa showed Martha her painting of a chrysanthemum. Martha stared at it for 15 minutes until tears flowed down her cheeks.

MARTHA: How did you do this? There seem to be no lines.

LISA: No lines, mom, just a million dots or points. It’s called pointillism. It took me three weeks to do it. It’s my gift to you. Chrysanthemums are the mystical flowers of China, which spread to Japan. A bestseller was written after World War II by anthropologist Ruth Benedict, The Chrysanthemum and the Sword, about the Japanese warriors of World War II whose fanaticism and suicidal tendencies instead of surrender intrigued Americans.

MARTHA: Wow, I am impressed. Lisa, you have suddenly made my day. Do me a favor. Go to the town and buy me art materials. I want to be a pointillist like you. Here is some money.

LISA: (Excitedly, refusing her money.) Mom, this is on me. Wait till David hears about this.

So Lisa brought Martha from total darkness into blinding light, from a death wish to electric euphoria, from absurdity to a life with meaning. Martha embraced Lisa tightly. After a week, they were back-–David, Lisa, and Josh, her grandson. They saw two giant paintings on the wall, as Martha was working on a third.

DAVID: Mom, I see the sunshine in your eyes.

LISA: It’s impossible. Three paintings in a week. And without a teacher. It can’t be done.

JOSH: (Embracing Martha) Hi, grandma. Of course it’s possible. You haven’t been sleeping. I see eyebags below her sunshine eyes, Dad.

DAVID: Okay, Josh, you be the judge. Tell us if the paintings are good.

JOSH: (Inspecting the two paintings and the incomplete one for a good twenty minutes.) Ready, grandma? That one is me. You got a photo from mom, right?

MARTHA: I had it in my wallet all the while.

JOSH: Awesome, grandma. That’s because your model is so handsome even in dots. The second one of the fishing boat with a fisherman in the sunset is even more awesome. How many dots, grandma?

MARTHA: (Computing mentally.) Hmmm. About 350,000 dots.

JOSH: Wow, a third of a million. That’s why you have eyebags.

DAVID: Your grandma is homesick, Josh. That’s from a beach in Vigan, which is in...

JOSH: Ilocos Sur. I know where it is, Dad. I know my roots.

DAVID: It’s a big transformation, mom. I am so happy for you.

JOSH: Spiritual transformation, Dad. The third unfinished painting is of Jesus in the Shroud of Turin, right? (Martha nods). Magnificent. You must have been the mother of Michelangelo in another life. I’m so proud of you, grandma.

MARTHA: The two paintings are my gift to you, Josh.

DAVID: How about me and Lisa?

MARTHA: The next ones.

JOSH: Forever grateful, grandma. Oh, one last thing. Get some sleep, grandma. There is no hurry. The Lord won’t take you until you make a hundred more paintings, maybe even a thousand. He needs you to touch people.

Martha had an exhibit of her paintings at the Guggenheim Museum in New York, which was extended for a week, with a record number of visitors. This was because Josh posted digital versions of her paintings on the internet, which went viral. She gave away her paintings for free on the condition that donations be made to homes for the elderly. She became a celebrity as far as Rome and Berlin.

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