Death took him away and I can’t find any comfort. On the Day of the Dead, his memory comes back to me as the Monarch butterflies run away from the cold winter. My sorrow is so deep and so bitter my anguish, like the roots of a tree trying to find nourishment were our ancestors rest. And my love is so deep and so heartfelt my agony, that my heart grew wings to meet him. Death took him away and I can’t find any comfort.