My eyes burned in the thick incense rising from mildewed vases on old cement graves. During Mass, I stood beside mother, staring at the small black-and-white, oval portraits of my grandparents, wondering if I should mimic their smiles. The priest's prayers echoed from afar. In the distance, the west was ablaze, birds rose and tumbled in the sky. There's sadness here, I thought, feeling the wings of a grasshopper scratching the inside of my toes. I looked down to see him jump into a hole in the soil, a flash of green in the newly cut grass.