Mother's day, a holiday made specially in recognition of the woman who went through several hours of tremendous pain and suffering and never let's you forget it. It's a day were families gather to pay tribute to mom's all around the world. Most of you probably took mom out to dinner with the family or made a wonderful breakfast, while you showered her with gifts. I however celebrated mother's day a little differently this time around.

As most of you are aware my mother resides in the Portland, Oregon so instead I went with my father to Comas to visit my grandmother. The morning started out early with a quick trip to the fish market in Callao to pick up a few Chitas. We arrived at my grandmothers with fish in hand and congratulated her continuous dedicated service as a mom. Eventually a neighborhood friend of my father's came by the house to talk awhile. The man with whom my father had been speaking with (a tall thin individual with grey hair) informed us that he was heading to visit his mother, brother, and sister in the community cementary. We decided to accompany him (it was about 11am at the time we headed up the hill to the cementary) to the cementary to visit his family.

The hot sunny beamed down on the 50 year old hilltop cementary as the clock reached noon. I of course came prepared with my trusty Nikon camera, ready to take pictures. Arriving on the scene I realized that this was a side of Mother's day that had never existed to me, a Mother's day where loved ones have passed, a day of smiles and tears. The cementary was filled with people visiting the graves of their loved ones. There were makeshift graves as far as the eye could see. For the most part there was a calm up in the hills as people paid their respects in ways that I have never been witness to before. Instead of just being a spectator I was going to partake in rituals.

As we visited the graves of the man's loved ones I began to notice that people were visiting graves with food, soda, flowers, candles, and alcohol in hand. Family would gather around the grave and place flowers and light candles. A prayer would be made and then some words would be made. Then the food would be brought out and the drinks passed around. They were eating and drinking alongside the grave and would occasionally pour a glass of beer or soda on the grave. The man after placing flowers on the graves then invited us to a few beers. Luckily for us a local perveyour of beer just happened to be around, like a hot dog vendor at a baseball game. An hour passed by and the beers had all been emptied so we decided to head back to the car until my father ran into another childhood friend.

The guy was up visiting his mother and sister as well and began to catchup on old times with my father. Before long more beers were requested as the sun began to slowing sink behind the hills (it was now 3pm). While we drank and spoke about such topics as the upcoming kiss concert, a little girl and boy came along with buckets of pink and blue paint and offered to paint the graves. Since the graves were worn by the sun's harsh rays the man agreed to the offer. The kids were no older than 9 and 11 and worked diligently. Before long relatives of the man came and more beers were brought forth.

After about 12 beers I was starting to feel worn especially since I hadn't eaten anything but the sun felt good with the cool breeze that came down the hills and so I decided to let the good times roll. Eventually a pair of aging musicians scaled the hill and were contracted by my father to play some classic Huayno music. Some more beers and a beautiful sunset and we decided to call it a day. At this point it's safe to say that I was feeling GOOD (sorry grandma!) and don't really remember much except that I had such a craving for food that I ate an entire fish right before passing out (from exhaustion, NOT EXCESSIVE ALCOHOL COMSUMPTION) on my grandmother's bed.