Today marks the twelfth anniversary of my mother’s death. She was 95 years old and died peacefully in her sleep. She born in Puerto Rico and would proudly call herself a “jibara” or a country girl from the hills of her beloved tropical island.

She was a humble person with a heart of gold, always happy to help others. I recall when there was a power blackout in New York City and she was on the subway getting home. She invited a woman she met as they crawled through the tunnels to spend the night at our home in the Bronx.

Yes, this country girl was a wonderful person and mother and she was my hero because she taught me always to be kind and respectful of people, all people. My sister and I took her body back home for burial.

In Puerto Rico Christmastime is celebrated from late November up until Three Kings’ Day, January 6th. The day after her interment we were invited to a traditional “Misa del Gallo” which literally translates to The Rooster’s Mass. The Catholic Mass was held in a small local chapel at around 3am.

After the Service the congregation walked from the chapel to a nearby home. When we got there, we were greeted with freshly brewed coffee and warm buttered bread. Then at dawn, as the sky was lighting up with daylight, live music and singing began as we gratefully celebrated a new day.

I can’t help but think Mami was there with us, celebrating her return home.