I grew up with a mother who believed in earning things. Not with perfection or pressure, but with honesty and effort. Her name was Lorena, and she was the kind of woman who could stretch a dollar farther than anyone and still make room for dessert on Fridays. When she became sick, everything in my life shifted, and when she passed, my world shrank in ways I wasn’t prepared for. I was fourteen. My father was devastated, but not long enough. I don’t say that with bitterness—just honesty. Grief hit