LOS ANGELES _ Jesus Tovar Sanchez was 27 when he and a cousin left Mexico for the United States, soon followed by his wife.
Over the next 40 years, Tovar rose from dishwasher to owner of a radiator company, bought a house in the San Gabriel Valley, raised five sons and a daughter, and became a U.S. citizen.
But as immersed as he was in his new country, it was not where he wanted to be in the end.
"When God takes me, he should take me to Guadalajara," he said in April. "That's my wish."
He was 74, suffering from advanced kidney disease and thinking about whether his children would honor that desire.
"I'm not sure what will happen because my family is here," he said. "If God calls me, I don't know if they will take me there or if I will stay here."
In a world in which international borders are often crossed as people flee war or poverty in search of peace or opportunity, the question of where is home has become increasingly muddled. Perhaps the best answer is the ultimate one: Home is the ground 6 feet above us.
Each year roughly 175,000 Mexicans move to the United States, according to the Pew Research Center. And each year thousands of bodies and cremated remains are shipped back to Mexico.
It wasn't until Tovar and his wife, Rosario, had been in California for about two decades that they decided to settle there for good. In a sign of their commitment, they purchased a two-person mausoleum at a Los Angeles cemetery.
"We said if we're going to stay here, we'll need the basic needs _ that's having a house and a final resting place," she said.
But after his mother died in 2002, Tovar realized he wanted to be buried next to her _ in Mexico.
Josefina Sanchez Pelayo had raised him and his six siblings in poverty after their father's death, and though Tovar was her only child to settle outside Mexico, the two remained close. He and Rosario would load the family into the car each December, tie a grill to the roof and drive to Mexico to visit.
As Tovar's own health took a precipitous decline last year, his children began to prepare for the end. They raised $3,000 to help cover the eventual cost of shipping his body to Mexico and other expenses.
On a trip last spring to Guadalajara, Tovar handed an envelope full of cash to a niece, who assured him that there would be space next to his mother.
"I relaxed a bit," Tovar said after returning from the trip. "I didn't feel sad. Instead, it gave me courage."
