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Bayamon, Puerto Rico

I’m almost 52 years old. I have lived half a century, and I’m grateful. I grew up in a very respectable family, the last child to grow up in that house. I was told by a friend of the family, that I was my grandparent’s joy. I was an only child. I grew up with my mother, and she was my everything. She was my friend, my support and my refuge in difficult times. By the time I was almost 30 years old, she became ill with lung cancer. She was dying and I felt more than sad, I felt lost. I was losing my everything. I turned to what I knew, religion, spiritualism; but I was given no hope! I wasn’t looking for God or the truth, as other people had. I was lost. God, I think, looked at my moth