I spent most of my early childhood in the Dominican Republic. It was some of the best years of my life. Countless memories will always spring up from that time and I am very grateful to have had those experiences. During that time everything was so cool to me and everyone in my family seemed to get along.

The one thing that I could always look forward to during my 

childhood in the Dominican Republic were those grand family reunions. We would usually unite at my great aunt’s home and share an entire day filled with food and entertainment. I would be so glad to see my cousins again and spend the day playing around. The house was filled with various aromas. From the flowery scent of my great grandmother’s perfume to the powerful aroma of the food. My great aunt is a great cook and to this day prides herself in her dishes.

The adults would sit at the dinner table while we kids got the coffee table. There would be boisterous laughter coming from them as my great uncle tells one of his jokes. They would talk about politics and life when they were young. Then everyone would be done eating and the adults would move to the living room to drink coffee and talk some more. Most of my cousins would then scamper off to go play on the porch, but some of us would stay. I remember that I would sit next to my great grandmother and cuddle with her. She would sometimes run her long and beautiful nails through my hair. I would then fall asleep on that couch.

Most times my grandmother, brother, and I would sleep over after one of the reunions. I would wake up to a fan spinning over my head. Walking out of the room there would be a Christian radio station playing. My great aunt making breakfast while conversing with my grandmother who would be drinking coffee nearby. We would eat the wonderful breakfast and get ready to leave. That was my least favorite part because to me it meant that the fun had officially ended. My brother and I would say our goodbyes and with our grandmother we would head home reminiscing the previous night.

Now I realize how precious those moments truly were. We are nowhere near as close as during those times. My great grandmother passed away recently and that put an even greater strain on our bond. Gone are the days of laughter and warmth. Losing those moments showed me that I need to live in the now.

I have become pretty obsessive over pictures. To me every picture is a memory, a moment in time that we can relive. When I flip through old pictures of my family I feel some sadness. Sadness over missing the people and the moments. I see how happy I was during those times and wish to go back again. I do not think that I will be able to bring those moments back but at least I have my pictures.

My family is not the same and in many ways neither am I. I have to constantly remind myself that no matter what these people will always be my family. A family that I hold my most precious memories with. The shadow of that happy family will always live on. I will continue to remember those times and remember my happiness during those times. Those reunions inspired me to cherish every memory and every picture. It reminds me that nothing is forever. Even the people we love the most will change. I have come to accept that and know that I am still that little girl who fell asleep on the couch.

People often say there are angel on earth, that was my godmother to me.She was my mother’s best friend since childhood. They grew up together and had children close to the same age. When I was baptized, she became my godmother and that began a bond that would never be broken.

I vividly remember the summers that she would spend in New York City. You see, once my mother left the Dominican Republic, my godmother went to live in Switzerland. There she made a life as a hairstylist and had two sons. When she would come to visit me it would often be during the spring. She would surprise me by picking me up from school and buying me ice cream. She was an amazing person to be around and her energy was so positive,

My mother often described her as the naive one of the group. She was caring and did not like to get into trouble. She did have a rebellious streak but never to the extent that her friend did. During her visits my mom and my godmother would sit for hours reminiscing about the old neighborhood and how they would sneak out during the night to go dancing. I used to listen in rapture imagining them as teenagers. Their stories seemed so amazing that they belonged in  a movie. The pranks they used to pull on the neighbors were even better.

My godmother’s name was Zunilda Ramirez and she took her role as godmother seriously. She was always a dear friend to my mom. If she could help my mother in any way she would. I remember one occasion when I was around seven, that my mother needed money for the deposit on the house she planned to buy and my godmother sent over all her gold so my mom could pawn it. She did not even hesitate to help out her friend and that really shocked me. Her love for me was something I never learned to appreciate. She was always worried about me and making sure that I always had everything. As a child, you really do not appreciate these things and we take them for granted. Now she is no longer with us and I can not tell her just how much I appreciated all her love.

My godmother passed away in January of 2007 from cancer, she was 39. As a child, she always had warts that sprouted on her skin and had to constantly get them removed. No one thought much of it at that time and they eventually stopped growing. It turns out those warts were not properly removed and did continue to grow inside of her brain. In a matter of a month, a woman who was seemingly in perfect health has died. She died thousands of miles away from her family in a European country she called home.

That was the first time I had seen my mother cry. My godmother’s family did not want to tell her of the death or that she was even sick. When my mother found out she was absolutely devastated and kept saying that she had lost her sister. I watched as she cried and cried and felt quite helpless towards her. At that time I still did not understand the severity of the situation but now I know. My mother went through a depressive year and to this day continues to grieve her sister.
My godmother taught me to be a great friend. Always being there is the best gift you can give others. That being someone’s confidant and providing comfort is important. In her memory I will always try my hardest to be at least a quarter of the friend that she was. I thank her for being such a great friend to my mother and for loving me so much. I miss her everyday, but I know that she is always with me.

In Loving Memory of Zunilda Ramirez ~ 1967-2007

When someone talks about loss they usually refer to the death of a loved one. I have lost something almost as valuable. Something that I never knew you could lose but have come to face the grim reality as I have grown up. When someone becomes a stranger to you, someone you have known your whole life, you spend nights wondering how it happened. How someone who you love so dearly can be lost so quickly.

My brother was my hero growing up. I wanted to be like him in every single way, even going as far as to climb some pretty dangerous places. He taught me how throw my first pitch and attempted to teach me how to ride a bike. Most importantly, he was my confidant and I did not want it any other way. My earliest memories are of the times I had spent with my brother. He was a father to me in the sense that mine could not be.

I vividly remember when we would get home from school and our grandmother would serve our food as we got comfortable. We sat on the floor with our plates and watched Power Rangers while discussing which ranger we each wanted to be, I was always the yellow one. On weekends we would entertain ourselves with marbles or playing with our friends from the neighborhood. Some days, when the sugarcane man would pass by, we would sit on our porch eating half a cane each. Those really were the best days of my childhood.

Around my brother’s seventeenth birthday and High School graduation, he became a resident of the United States. He came to New York for the first time on July 4th and that same night we went to see the fireworks. It was very cool having him here because now I did not have to go out of the country just because I missed him. I thought that it would be the best thing ever.

After we both spent a year in the Dominican Republic, my brother so he could graduate and I because I wanted to, my brother moved to the U.S. permanently. This was when things began to drastically change. The change itself was gradual, but as my brother and I got to really live together for the first time, we began to grow farther and farther apart. I felt like he was no longer the big brother that I knew.

His friends also changed him quite a lot. He began to hang around the wrong types of people. These people showed him a life of fast money and extravagance that he had never seen before. He quit college and began living this extravagant life. He became distant towards us and we did not really know what he was up to. His life has become something from a T.V show nowadays.

Today my brother is experiencing a few consequences due to his actions. Our mother is going through an equally hard time. I am angry at him for causing so much pain not only on himself, but us as well. Mostly I mourn the loss of the brother I once knew. The life that he has chosen for himself is so different from the path that I have chosen.


Sometimes I wonder if he thinks about me and feels proud. Other times I do not care because I am too busy being angry at him. If I could ask for one thing it would be to have him back or at least let him see how much damage he has caused to himself. He is on a path of self destruction that will completely end who I once knew as a brother. I want him back, the way that he used to be, but I guess that is just wishful thinking.