My Last Memory of you, Mamá

growing up I always heard that Black isn't beautiful They said, being black leads to an early casket but I'm still here I'm still alive I never let the white lies get in the way of my beautiful colored skin Black is ever "B" word Bold Brave Big-hearted Blessed and most importantly Beautiful I'm Black and I'm proud

My favorite childhood memory was the last day my mother was alive. We were at a party at my grandmother's house because my mother, my little brother, who was barely two years old, and I would come to the United States.

At that party, we all enjoyed each other a lot. At the end of the party, my grandmother told my mother, "Cindy, don't go home with the children at this time because it's too late." She replied, "Mami, we're going to go home. You slept uncomfortably last night because there were too many of us." Then we left. I remember when we got home, I went straight to bed to sleep. I slept in the same bed with my mother. The last thing I saw was my mother giving milk to my little brother. Then I fell asleep.

When I woke up, I heard my little brother crying. He was still in the crib, there was a man between my mother and I who was also still sleeping, and he was hugging me. I knew him because he used to visit our house every day. He used to visit my mother. He was in love with her. When I got out of bed, I saw that my mother was foaming at the mouth, and he, too, was foaming at the mouth. I was innocent. I did not know anything. A friend of hers knocked on the door. I ran and opened it.

When she entered, the rst thing she did was put her hand on her head and began to shout "POR FAVOR AYUDENME! CINDY ESTÁ MUERTA!" "SOMEONE PLEASE HELP CINDY IS DEAD" Our entire family began to arrive. They took my little brother out and called the ambulance, and all the people were in shock. I was crying.

When the ambulance arrived, they took the bodies to do an autopsy. They took me away. They didn't want to tell my grandmother, but she was already imagining what was happening because I arrived crying. When they told her she got very sick, they had to calm her down and take her to the doctor.

It was a poison that he gave her to drink, and he also drank it. My grandmother had to overcome the death of her only daughter, she had sons, but my mother was her only daughter. She had to struggle, to ght, but she raised my brother and me. I thank her for my life. Years later, I came with my father to the United States, and my little brother stayed behind. He's not going to live with me. He has a di erent father. I'm going to visit him all the time.

My grandmother is still living in the Dominican Republic with my younger brother. She has a lot of support from her family. My dream is to nish college and bring her to live with me, Si Dios quiere.

This memory is my favorite because it was the last memory I have of my mother.

In loving memory of Erin Garry,

Thank You.