I guess if I had to start anywhere I would say….I am a mama’s boy…. what? Fuck you, I love my mama. Shit. As far back as my memory will take me, I have always been close to my mom. She was that mom that other kids wished they had. The mom that would let us stay up late, work over time just to buy us the cool clothes for school, she was…mom. But don’t let that all these great things for a second make you think that she couldn’t crack down on me and my sister Little M…well that’s what I call her…her name is Maria. Well anyway, my mom when she need to, would speak in tongues, in this horrible language that when said with enough anger and speed could sound like nothing but pure evil. The language…Spanish. She would ay things like…Jose Steven Martinez… Usted mejor le consigue poco, pero aquí abajo ahora mismo, si usted alguna vez quiere derribar otro piñata…rough translation…My full name, and then…You better get you little but down here right now, if you ever want to break open another piñata…But shes great, Spanish moms…ah….the only moms that will stand behind there kids no matter what there accused of. I could be on death row for murder with live footage of me committing a murder, with my DNA tying my to the crime, and even me personally admitting that I did it, and my mom would still swear that her baby would never do such a thing. Oh, I can see her in a court room yelling at the judge, talking like Rosy Perz and such. As a child we grew up in one of the smallest towns, Pureville, but there was nothing pure about. Crime and drugs ruled the street. My father really wasn’t apart of our life, I was one when he left my mom. He left her while she was giving birth to my sister, no really, while my sisters head was crowning, and coming out, he decided that he can’t take it, so he leaves. Well, he came back 5 minutes later, my mom still giving birth and says he can’t handle this, anymore. Well, needless to say that wasn’t the only hospital room he visited that day, when he told her this, her reaction was medusa like, her hair everywhere, and she delivered a stone cold fist to his nose, and he was sent to the emergency room. Its funny because when my other aunts and uncle tell me this story, which they do over and over against my own will, they tell me that she was so focused on us, that she didn’t even shed a tear for my father, but pidddyed him for he was the one missing out on us, is what she used to say. Our families very close too close sometimes. We know everything about everyone; my aunts will know when a girl is pregnant even before the mom knows. Our family get together's always results in telling stories of the past…grandpa coming up to me and saying “I remember you when you dick was this big”…Grandpa, that’s not appropreate to say in front of the kids….”What, oh shit, there just jealous!” Grandpa has a love hate relationship with alcohol, he love when he has it, and hates it when he doesn’t. It was in 2000 when our family hit some hard times, Grandpa was in the hospital for liver troubles and mom, well she was diagnosed with cancer†¦wait before, you give me those eyes, know that it wasn’t like that. There was no, What IF she dies. There were only, When is this over…It was just another stone my mom had to get over…and she had help from our family…For her 40th b-day my aunt made a piñata that was this big black ball with evil eyes that read cancer, where the mouth should have been…well mom laughed and she went up to it and just started whacking away, and she beat it, she kicked piñata cancers ass. Inside the piñ ata fell a pink wig, my aunt’s joke? My mom laughed and put it on and walked around the entire party wearing it, as if she was born with pink hair. I cried, it was just a little too real then. Well Christmas of 2002 came around and I brought this girl over to meet my family. We had been dating for about 7 months now and I was a little afraid to bring her to a family get together. My family can be a little much. The last girl that I brought over I asked to pick up a present for one of my aunt and uncles, she brought a gift certificate to Taco Bell. The poor girl didn’t stand a chance after that. Well of course my aunts were insulted and I learned some new Spanish words that day. Well we me and Sara, my new girlfriends had a great time and everything was so much fun, and we had cake and ice cream and presents… My mother wearing a wig that she dyed green and red, her way showing her Christmas spirit Well, I was checking my email the other day. And I get an email from LATINOBITCH, its my moms…don’t ask…well this is weird, because the first time she got an email her computer, said, YOU”VE GOT MAIL, well my mom, goes outside and checks her mailbox, then precedes to call me and tell me her computer is broke. It took forever to explain things to her. So, I get an email from my mother, except it’s in Spanish, do you want to know what this looks like to me. Like this… So I copy and paste and find a translation place online, after I decode the hidden message, it reads… Honey I can’t take this anymore, I can’t take the wigs, the charity looks from our church, and can’t take it anymore. I have been strong for too long, I just want to be weak. Rough Translation? Well I immediately drop what I am doing and run straight to her house. I barge in and find her sitting on the coach watching TV. And then it started…”How Dare you, you are willing to hurt everyone around you, just because you are tired? No I am sorry but to stop taking your meds is not your decision to make, its suicide, and that not just your body, me and Maria passed through there, our heart beats to the same rhythm your does, and our mind move at the same wave lengths your does and when your heart stops and your mind stops so does ours. Sorry, the answer is no, that body is more than just yours…And I need you …my mom, just smiled quietly turned off the TV, and walked over to me and slapped me….Rough Translation…Shes fucking pissed. Well after mama reminds who’s boss, she told me that It was her time, she has done everything she can to raise me right, and that her having cancer was her sign from god that he is ready to have her in heaven. Now I have no idea what the he that means, but it made sense. Moms have a tendency to do that, make sense out of nonsense. She dies a year and a half later…Lots of people showed up, some of them I had never seen before. All of them coming up to me telling me there stories of family members passing. I’m lonely, I am…I’m really lonely…