When my mother knew her days were numbered, she told me she wanted to go home. I immediately knew that she wasn’t talking about leaving the hospital for our house in Boston, she was talking about Montserrat. I got her out of the hospital but she died before I could bring her back to Montserrat alive. In any event, this is where she is buried and so I visited her grave today. For a while I stood at a distance and cried my eyes out. I always knew the day would come when I would bury my mother, I just never thought I would face that challenge in my early twenties. She was so young. Thus, it’s difficult at times not to regress and get angry with God over the whole situation.