Gerard Enriquez, Aikido Institute of San Francisco
Leo Baca, a long time student at Aikido Institute of San Francisco, passed away on June 23rd after a long battle with cancer. Below is the eulogy written for Leo’s funeral, reflecting on his life in aikido and the meaningful role he played in the dojo and aikido community.
Good afternoon everyone.
Before I speak about Leo, I want to share a little about aikido, since not everyone here may know what it is.
Aikido is a Japanese martial art, but it is different from most martial arts. Instead of trying to overpower an opponent, aikido is about blending with energy, finding harmony in conflict, and redirecting force with grace rather than resistance. It teaches us movement, timing, and awareness. But aikido is not just physical—it is also a path inward. It helps us center ourselves mentally, to find calm within chaos and balance within struggle. At its heart, aikido carries a spiritual dimension. It is a practice of harmony, of peace, and of connection to something greater than ourselves.
Leo embodied that spirit. He lived aikido not only in the way he trained, but in the way he lived—with joy, generosity, and respect for others.
I started aikido as a child, and I met Leo when I was in my teens and early twenties. In those early days, before I ever stepped into the role of teacher, he was already by my side. And when I first began teaching classes, he was one of the few who stood by me with steady support. In many ways, he has been with me for the entire arc of my aikido life.
Leo trained with a kind of vigor and commitment that is rare. Every time he stepped on the mat, he gave everything he had. But what was most striking was that he did it with joy—with a smile on his face, with warmth in his heart. For me personally, Leo was one of the few people I could train with at full intensity, never holding back, because I knew he welcomed it, matched it, and relished it. Training with him was always honest, challenging, and deeply fulfilling.
But Leo’s dedication went beyond his own training. He was deeply committed to the community. When people were struggling with aikido, feeling discouraged or frustrated, Leo always had one mantra: “Just show up.” He knew that consistency and presence were the real keys to growth, and he encouraged others with that simple but powerful reminder. And he lived it himself—because even when he couldn’t physically train, he would still come to class, sit quietly on the sidelines, and watch. His presence mattered, his support mattered, and it inspired others to keep going.
Leo also supported the dojo in countless practical ways. He would answer phone calls, greet and talk to people who walked in, and patiently answer their questions. He helped new students in their first few days of aikido, making them feel welcome, comfortable, and supported as they took their first steps on the mat. These simple acts of kindness strengthened the dojo and made it a more open and inviting place for everyone.
Leo also gave so much of himself to others—especially to the children in our dojo. As the head instructor of the children’s program, I was blessed to have Leo by my side. He assisted me regularly, and whenever I was away, he would step in and guide the children with patience, kindness, and wisdom. What made his teaching so special was that it wasn’t just about technique. He used aikido to teach the kids values—respect, humility, perseverance, compassion. Lessons that went far beyond the mat, lessons that would stay with them for life.
And then came a beautiful chapter: when his daughter Emma joined the dojo. Watching Leo and Emma train together was something truly special. There was a tenderness and pride in his eyes when they shared the mat, a bond that radiated outward to everyone watching. Seeing Emma’s development in aikido has been a wonderful sight. When she first started, she was a little tiny thing—quiet and shy, often hiding behind Leo. Now she has blossomed into a confident aikidoka who is well known throughout our aikido community across the United States. She is recognized by teachers from all over the country and even abroad—from San Diego to New York, and even as far as Scotland. Leo’s pride in her growth was unmistakable, and witnessing that transformation has been an incredible gift to us all.
Leo also has a son, Ryan, who attended a few classes with the younger children. His wild energy, full of life and spirit, was so reminiscent of Leo himself. Watching Ryan on the mat, even for those brief moments, was both heartwarming and funny—like catching a glimpse of Leo’s own spark reflected in his son.
As a new father myself, with a three-year-old daughter, I often think about the relationship Leo had with his children. It inspires me, and I hope to cultivate that same connection with my own daughter as she grows.
As we remember Leo today, let us carry forward the lessons he shared with us. Let us approach life with the same joy and energy he brought to the dojo, support one another with the same kindness he showed to everyone, and cherish the connections we share with family, friends, and community.
Leo will be missed deeply. But his spirit remains on the mat with us, in the laughter of the children he taught, in the strength of his daughter Emma, in the playful energy of his son Ryan, and in the hearts of everyone he touched.
Thank you, Leo, for everything.
