[pre:753384f373]Dear Diary,

I’m Pepita Borrico. I never knew who I wanted to be as I grew up, but I know I have dreams. I still don’t know who I want to be, but I’m working on it. This is my world, and how I live it.

My mother was a strong person who never let anything stop her from reaching her dreams. She was diagnosed with cancer at the age of 19. That was three months after I was born. My mom was raped at a college party right after she turned 18. Her life was hectic, but she never let me, her sickness, or anything else get in the way of accomplishing her dreams. She is forever in my heart, and my role model. She died four years later.

I didn’t have any other family, and my “dad” was in jail for her rape. I never knew him, and I don’t even think he knew I existed. As sad as it was, I have a great life because I was raised by the sweetest, strongest woman in the world, my mother. Before she died, she taught me more than I could ever learn in 20 years of college, the secrets to surviving. Those are the little things I am sure I will always have with me.

After she died, I was put into a foster home. I was the only foster child at Mamà Marìa’s. She taught me everything my mom did not have the chance to. I was sent to her the day after my mom died. I was always in the saddest mood, and Mamà Marìa helped me through. The day of her funeral, I locked myself in my room. I fell asleep for just a few short minuets, but it was enough time for her to sneak in through the closet,(there was another door linking our closets) and wake me up.

Mamà Marìa carried me out to the car. It was a small car, but it was just right for us. Once we arrived to St. John’s Funeral Home, I sat in the front with Mamà. She held me tight in her arms like mom used to do. I felt like I was home again, and nothing had happen.

The service seemed like it went on for years, but finally it was over. We went to the cemetery right behind the church where she was buried. If there was anything I liked about that day it was where she was buried. Her casket was put into the ground right under a ginormous Weeping Willow. It was mom’s, and my favorite type of tree.

Mama Maria said, “A Weeping Willow is the best type of tree there is. It means the person buried there is watching over everyone they ever loved, and since your Mother definitely loved you, she will always be looking over you.”

That was the best news I ever could hear on that day, besides that this was all a complete, and very sad, depressing dream. But it was not. It was real, and my mom was dead.

Mama Maria told me, “You know, it’s true what they say, ‘children should bury their parents, not the other way around.’ “ Well, this is my life’s story, and so it begins.

Pepita Borrico[/pre:753384f373]