As a Hispanic woman who identifies as queer, I feel that I have my hands in an array of different hats. I've always been able to connect with any individual from many walks of life. I grew up having to depend on government assistance programs and I grew up very fast. My birth mother was fifteen years old when she gave birth to me, we lived in a low-income household, and she was very quick to bring three more children into the picture. My humble beginnings have helped me develop my resiliency skills and the ability to stay positive throughout any situation. Currently, I'm enrolled in the Mortuary Science program at San Antonio College and pursuing my associate's degree in the field. It's easy to celebrate and thank individuals who are professionals in the healthcare industry. Doctors and nurses do their best to guarantee patients are taken care of and prioritize the lives of their patients, so when they've done all they can, morticians will handle it from there. It's easy to put the thought of death on the backburner throughout our lives, but whether we think about it or not it will be the thing that awaits all of us. Helping individuals through one of the hardest parts of outliving their loved ones is something I feel a deep connection with. If I'm able to take the weight of the organization of a funeral and bring beauty into a service just to make the grieving process a bit easier, then I've done my duty to the family and my community. With my positive attitude and charisma, I'm hopeful that my character and a strong sense of duty to my community will positively impact the world. It's a career path that will expose me to grim topics and also connect me to loved ones of the melting pot that is my community. My goal is to help individuals stray away from the dread of a funeral and the fear of having to face all of the hard decisions that come into play when deathcare is involved. Bringing the conversation of death and aftercare is important to talk about while we're all living so we can do right by our loved ones when it's their time to rest. I want to help the world celebrate the beautiful lives that have come to an end as death approaches us. Love as hard as you can while you can, and when you're the one placing your hand on their casket remember that just because their spirit has moved on and they've left their empty vessel behind, it's not the end of their legacy and the love you had for them. Keep changing the world by keeping their spirit alive and spreading wonderful stories about their positive impact, and how they changed the world.

Artist name: Sail.On. Album: I'd Sell My Own Bones for Sapphire Stones ---------------------------------------------------------------- Track 1) Vindicated - Dashboard Confessional Track 2) The Resolution- Jack's Mannequin Track 3) The Lovers Are Losing - Keane Track 4) Trade Mistakes - Panic! At The Disco Track 5) Everything Is Alright - Motion City Soundtrack Track 6) Hell - Tegan and Sara

It's wonderful to create bonds with your peers. It's nice to be invited to parties or go out for lunch to do some catching up. Friendship to me has to be more than just surface level. Friendship to me is having someone to talk to on those nights when the future seems so far away and the stresses of today are caving in around you. Those days when your legs feel heavy and your head is fuzzy, friendship is appreciated then. I've always cherished my best friends who've rescued me on the side of the freeway when my spark plugs had finally had enough, the ones who drop what they're doing to lend a helping hand has created a permanent place for them in my heart. It's about having a chosen family. Friends that find themselves at my dinner table during Thanksgiving dinner, at birthday parties, and holding my hand during a funeral service have changed their friendship status from "friends" to "family" in those moments. Those moments have proven that their intentions aren't just to be there for the good times, but also at those moments that are most difficult. That's what friendship means to me.

My most influential and motivational memory is staring out the car window while parked in a Walmart parking lot. After being evicted from my home, at eighteen years old, I felt completely lost. "Where do I go from here?" is what I kept asking myself. I used safety pins to pin shirts over my car windows to build a makeshift barrier of privacy for the night. Fast forward to being twenty-six and finally having the opportunity to pursue higher education. So much has happened since my time sleeping in Walmart parking lots. I've traveled throughout the West Coast. Made my way from California to Texas with nothing but an iPod and a few hundred dollars for gas. There I was able to pet elephants and jump into a chilly natural spring in Austin, Tx. When eighteen-year-old me worried about where the next stop was, I don't think she expected that we'd have so many great days ahead of us. I'm forever grateful for that young woman's resiliency and her drive to provide better for herself. She's the reason I'm strong and determined enough to grab my education by the reigns and ride off into the sunset with my future degree in hand.

Selflessness and compassion help me to define generosity. It means that even someone who has all they could need can take a step back and say, "I don't need all of this, where can I help". Generosity has come to be in this form. I've had many parents take me in and ensure that I have something hot to eat, and somewhere cozy to lay at night. When I was eighteen I came out to my parent's as a lesbian, to which their response was to hand me an OfficeMax box and let me know, "You may be my daughter, and I'll always love you for that. If that's how you're going to live your life, then you're not welcomed here". I had a friend tell her mom about my situation and she quickly reorganized her sewing room into a makeshift space for me to rest. She let me know that her home would always be open to me. Her generosity formed a lump in my throat that I feared to swallow. She housed me for two years and truly gave me the space to flourish. Now at twenty-six years old, my fiance's mother has opened her home to the two of us. In pursuit of our education, she asks for no financial compensation. All she asks of us is to be passionate about our education and of course, take the trash to the curb every Thursday night. Her generosity means that my biggest headaches have to be whether I take four classes or five classes next semester. It means that my fridge will always be full and I'll be in a safe environment to pursue my intellectual dreams.

My greatest hope for the future begins with death. As a student pursuing her A.A.S in Mortuary Science, I believe people won't be able to truly live until they create a better relationship with death. I hope that once people come to terms that one-day things will be over and we'll return once again to the space we were in before life, that they'll truly take advantage of their time on Earth. Death and the death industry is a morbid subject to many individuals, but it's something people try to avoid thinking about at all costs. We can drive past a cemetery and look the other way, or see a caravan of vehicles making their way to a funeral home and quickly drive by. At the end of the day, tomorrow isn't guaranteed, therefore we must take advantage of today. The future begins with us. As an individual, what are we to do to impact the world? We start small of course. We must secure the relationships we've formed and be sure to create strong ones with new people who make their way into our lives. By doing little things like sending your mom a photo of what you ate that day, or reaching out to your co-worker and letting them know that you're glad they received their promotion you're showing love and compassion. Your impact on people will always start small as if sowing the seeds of the future you hope to leave behind. The good you put into your life and the lives of others is what will help build the future. When you die, and little programs with your name are in the hands of your loved ones, and you're laying in your padded casket, or a modest urn, finally resting; the memory of all the love and compassion you put into the world is what you'd be leaving behind. When our loved ones die, we pay close attention to what others say about them, their legacy, and the fruits of their labor. We leave the service thinking over and over about what people will say about us. Death is always a motivator as to what we want to accomplish before our rest. Your legacy doesn't have to be a bronze statue overseeing 72 steps in Philidelphia. It can be as small as the loving things you did for loved ones or even strangers. The future won't have any hope unless we're able to take a look at death and say, "Not yet, I'm busy. But I am ready for you". Death will always give me hope to take on the future.

I moved to Texas in pursuit of my A.A.S in Mortuary Science. It's more often than not that doctors, nurses, and other individuals within the medical field are celebrated, and rightfully so. My dream is to become a Funeral Director because I think it's easy to celebrate those who do their best to keep us alive, so why couldn't the same be done for those who care for the deceased? I'm interested in this field because of its immense need for empathy and desire to care for its community. Caitlyn Doughty, a quirky and fearless mortician, wrote her first autobiographical novel titled, "Smoke Gets in Your Eyes", which has a passage where she has become really good at preparing bodies. Most of them are elderly caucasian men, so it becomes easy for her to finish preparing bodies, becoming second nature to her. One day she opened a body bag, in it was a young girl about the age of seven. She took this moment to reflect on how she'd seen the past bodies as an easy workload when in reality these bodies were walking and talking people at one point. Not just slabs that she worked on and threw in a hole in the ground. From this experience, she was able to connect closer to humanity and those in her community whom she served. She currently owns and operates a non-profit funeral home in Los Angeles, where she's able to bring in family of loved ones and have them be a part of the funeral planning, dressing of bodies, and cremation process. This process, she explains, is one way she's able to bridge the gap between death and grieving. Rather than have a stranger prepare it all, she'd rather see family and loved ones be involved. I've always felt very close to my community and fellow human being. Going into the funeral industry is my way of being there for my community at the worst of times. While we love to be together with our loved ones for birthdays, weddings, holidays, or even the Super Bowl; it's also customary for us to be together for a funeral as well. My idea of a funeral isn't all black and a creaky organ, it has to be livelier than that. When I helped plan my grandmother's funeral in November of 2020, I made sure to keep the funeral as much celebration as I could. I didn't find it disrespectful to laugh and smile while at her wake because she was so loved, and she was always smiling; it was what she would have wanted. Every conversation I had with my family that day was met with appreciation for a beautiful service. We ended the ceremony by releasing a single white dove in her honor, to show that her soul was ready for whatever is waiting for us on the other side. By doing this for my beloved grandmother, I knew I wanted to do the same for everyone else in my community. I hope to change funeral stereotypes and help push the industry into a much more progressive and modern light.

My birth mother was 15 years old when she gave birth to me. Since 1995 I've learned more and more about my own resiliency. As a young child I did my best to remain focused on my needs and desires, ever stopping until I was satisfied. As a young child my birth mother did her best to raise both me and her. But at age 17 she decided to find my father and explain that I deserved better than the life she could provide me. From age two to ten travelled back and forth between both adults. I never got completely settled in either home, I was okay living out of my My Little Pony backpack and went with the flow. The summer after I turned eleven my birth mother was entered into rehab. She'd overdosed on prescription pain killers. Later I found out she was a frequent math user as well. When I was able to visit her in rehab she explained to me that she was sick, and that she needed me to look after my brothers and sister while she was away. Eleven year old me learned how to shop using food stamps that summer. I learned how to read the ounces on cereal boxes so I could purchase the correct WIC items, learned to stick to a budget and what to feed four children besides Tyson chicken nuggets. I knew then that 3 pairs of eyes were always looking to me for guidance and nurturing. I knew I was resilient even then. I've taken on many leadership roles since my youth and I'm thankful that my resiliency has always pushed me through every hard day, week, month, and year. I understand that it's what gives me value.