A photograph of my Grandmother, Juanita Concepcion Perez. She was a beautiful, formidable woman. I loved her fierce spirit and her spicy personality, hidden in her small frame.
When she passed, I was just 18 weeks along with my first child. She died at my mother’s house, with many loved ones surrounding her. I looked into her eyes while she took her last few breaths and I could sense a bit of fear in them. I told her, “Thank you” and in my mind I gave her permission to let go. My mother washed her lifeless body shortly afterwards. I felt the first butterfly movements of life in me that day.