I was born in a small town in the Caribbean. My mother was a kind, loving woman, while my father was always away. When I was 10 my father had left me with my mother who had been having troubles. At school I had no friends and had sat alone quietly at lunch time. Then one day about a year and a half later I walked home from the schoolhouse and walked inside my home. I found my then sickly mother in bed. She was dead. I was heartbroken. I moved in with my cousin and she was sweet and caring. She had a good mother and father and I was happy there. One day I went to her room to see her in the window. I was shocked and ran to her, she jumped and died in hospital minutes later due to a head problem. I had kept getting an education, now even sometimes not even answering questions the teacher asked us. During the summer of '69 I was visiting my cousin's gravesite when my aunt came by. She noticed me and asked why I had visited. I told her 'I miss her, that's all'. She smiled and put flowers on the grave.