My mother passed away when I was 21. She passed from a rare (essentially) incurable cancer, taking with her, a mothers love, and my entire history.  As the child of immigrants I am the product of travel, and she ingrained in us the importance of overseas travel. Every since I was born my mother made sure I spend at least a month outside of the country, sometimes foregoing family trips to ship us abroad to cousins in far away places. My diary was my original family travel blog. I learned to sew by the light of a kerosene lamp in Jamaica by an elderly aunt who could barely see but muscle…