Personal Narrative: Personal Life

My most memorable moment of my life so far was the death of my grandfather about 4 years ago. My Grandfather was 78 and was my number one supporter of all my decisions. He did not care what I did, as long as i was happy with what i chose to do. Every time i walked into his house he would say (Whats up merdal). To this day I still don’t know what that means or why he gave it me, I just thought it was cool.

School was letting out for summer and there was pure excitement in the air, or at least that’s what I thought. I was 15 years old and I had a huge summer in store since I got my first car and I could drive anywhere I wanted. I always had a great relationship with my grandfather ‘Pop’ and since he lived in town we did a lot of stuff together. He was 79 years old, but you couldn’t tell it because of his energy and health. I knew ‘Pop’ had been sick but I never thought twice about it, because he had always been really healthy. Being the young stupid kid I was I never went to check on him because it was summer and I would hate to miss out on something with my friends. That was my immature mindset, which made me feel very lonely for the majority

If you knew you were going to at this exact moment, would you be satisfied with how you lived your life up to this point? Do your accomplishments and overall happiness outweigh your regrets? I was eleven when my parents got divorced and the aftermath included me going into a depressive state. One quote from what is now my favorite television show gave me a new perspective on life and gave me the strength to do things differently.

Such a peaceful Saturday morning I thought to myself as I lay in a daze on my bed. Contemplating weather or not it’s worth it to crawl out of my bed and watch the early morning cartoons. My friends at school always seem to fill me in when I miss it I thought to myself as I began burying myself underneath my fortitude of blankets. Seconds later there was a pounding at my door and my dad came in to tell me that I was going to the zoo today. Extremely ecstatic I zipped my clothes on and ran down the stairs to go wait in the car. Almost falling out of my seat with excitement the whole ride there I would repeat each and every animal that I wanted to visit at the zoo until it drove my parents crazy.

In 1995, I was asked to relocate to a different city. I had lived in Cincinnati and the surrounding area all of my life. My entire biological family was there (well, except the ones in south central Kentucky, but that’s another story). All my friends were there. I was well-rooted into my church (my real family). Everything. All that I knew in life was in Cincinnati. All my ex’s lived in, not Texas, but Cincinnati. We accepted the call and in the last days there, I sat in shock of what I was about to do. Uncertainty was overwhelming One day as I sat quietly, I heard a still, small say, “Pam, I have taken care of you in Cincinnati, you know I will take care of you in this new city.” I was instantly in peace.

One day i was in class and I was doing my homework.Somebody was running really fast and the teacher yelled at him he got mad and threw a book.Suddenly I was knocked out…...I was on an island.

Time slowed down and gravity lifted as my car drifted over the thin black sheet of glass. My car didn't stop until it connected with the telephone pole next to the road. The impact threw me into the air bag and broke all of my windows. I must have been in a lot of pain because the next thing I remember was waking up in the hospital the next morning, with my right arm and left leg in a cast and a nurse standing over me. She told me that they were unable to find any identification on me so they couldn't call anyone to let them know about the accident. That made sense considering I accidently left my wallet at work, which I was driving home on a back road from when I hit the pole. She brought me a computer and let me borrow her phone to contact those that I needed to.

I remembered going up to my nana's house every Saturday in the summer of 2014. My little

I was four years old as I was being pushed in a stroller onto the Clovis West pool deck and I knew just about what I had come for. I had been begging my mom, ever since I saw my big sister swim, to let me swim like the big kids. I remember how confident I was standing behind that block, knowing almost as it was my destiny to be in this sport. I hear the starter tell us, " take your mark" and in that moment I knew, this is where I belong. Little did I know twelve years later I would be sitting here in my room writing how one small sport made such an impact on my life.

My heartbeat pounded in my ears. I was breathing so heavily I was scared I would hyperventilate. It was silent other than the sounds of two sets of paws running over the crunchy autumn leaves on the dying forest floor.

Tears blurred my eyes as I watched hundreds of balloons fill the solemn grey skies. I tried to clear my vision by wiping the tears away. Even with the light wind, the water pooling from my eyes would not dry. After my failed attempt to stop crying, I looked down at my fingers and saw black streaks of my mascara and eyeliner. I take out the scented Kleenex tissues from my bag and wipe my fingers on them. The only thing filling the silence was the constant sobs coming from people around me and my own. I found a sense of comfort in my best friend. I could smell her fruit scented shampoo as she laid her head on my shoulders and clung onto me. As our group of friends surrounded us, we all hold on to one another, finding solace within each other. This was the first time I mourned a death of someone I loved.

“Next month we're are going to move to Los Altos and this house will go for rent,” my Dad said five months ago at dinner. I was shocked and quickly answered

“Nooooo!” I screamed as I felt like my heart ripping out of my chest. It was beating at seventy-thousand beats per minute and I felt like I was frozen still like an iceberg in freezing water. The day had come where I was no longer needed and the government was ready to get rid of me. I heard the police sirens closening to my home. “Here take this” my mom told me as she handed me the government issued gun for my training. I was being trained as an operative that went undercover and was issued warrants to kill certain high up people in our opposing government of District 15. “Wee-oo wee-oo” The cops cars are closening and my heart is beating faster and faster. I started for the door as my mom forcefully took me into a hug. “I love you Michael, don’t ever forget that.” “I love you too mom.” And with those words I ran the front door and before I knew it the cops were already here. “MICHAEL CONROCKER, DROP YOUR WEAPON AND THIS WILL GO VERY EASY!” The police officer yelled through the megaphone. I knew that I had to listen otherwise I had a larger chance of dying than living. I slowly lowered my gun to the ground and turned around for them to cuff me. As they cuffed me I could sense my mother’s longing stare from the foyer window of our new home that I had just bought. I felt the rigidness of the police officer’s hands as he forcefully tightened my hands into handcuffs. The officer cuffing me was one of my best friends who knew that if he didn’t do what he was told that his day

Anger. I was only eleven, but the sight of my one year old sister filled me with rage. Everyone had remarked on the successful prognosis ahead of her second surgery within a year. “It is going to be better”, “the previous surgeon was incompetent” and “this new doctor is an expert”. These were the words thrown around the house prior to the surgery. They were all wrong. My sister had been born with a cleft palate, and after a few months, was scheduled for surgery. The first surgery was a disaster; the surgeon made several mistakes, and compounded the original issue. In the months that followed, I watched my family break apart, and come back together as we raised money for a second surgery. Alas, the second surgery was only slightly more successful than the first. Faced with depleted financial resources, we knew that was it, and she would have to live with misshapen lips, an uneven nose, and a scar. The exhaustion of this whirlwind experience was soon followed by a deep-seated mistrust, and hatred for medical professionals. I could not understand how such callousness was possible and I wondered why doctors were held in high esteem. Every day, I cared for my sister, and every day, this rage consumed me.

Hi, I’m Jake, a seventeen-year-old boy with a lot of things left to see in life. Unfortunately, I died.