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Post by meganbrown16 on Mar 7, 2017 14:37:15 GMT -5
personal essay- second draft
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Post by The Thought Police (admin) on Mar 13, 2017 5:04:52 GMT -5
My Dad
Death- the one word everyone fears. Since childhood I have understood the pain and sadness of death. Sometimes it comes unexpectedly and takes a precious life. That’s the gut-wrenching pain I felt. At the age of seven I lost the most important man in my life- my beloved dad.
On June 2nd 2007 my life changed. My dad was taken in for another emergency operation; I never thought that I would never see him again. That day my whole world came crashing down. A few days after Christmas my dad’s heart murmur became worse and was rushed to hospital, many tests and x-rays were done and I was given the heart breaking news that my dad’s valves in his heart were shutting down and he needed surgery fast. In total he had three operations but in the end his heart could not stand anymore of the pain. With his second operation failing, causing him to develop a virus, his own doctors refused to operate anymore. I remember the feeling of being told that my father was seriously ill and that without this operation he would die. It ripped me apart. This left a feeling of despair and destruction in our family. Finally, after weeks of searching, a surgeon in Glasgow agreed to do the operation. Looking back I’m glad that the operation had taken place because even with the risks, there was still a chance for my dad to survive. Even though the procedure was unsuccessful and I lost my dad, I’m glad he knows we wanted to fight for him.
I remember that day so clearly. That was when my ‘Auntie Linda’ was looking after me and my two sisters, while my mum and my dad’s best friend -Alex were through at the Royal Hospital in Glasgow waiting for my dad to come out of his final operation. When I saw Alex’s car pull up in the front drive and him and my mum walk out, I would have never imagined that they were going to break the news that I would never see my dad again. Downstairs I could hear Linda crying and trying to gasp for air. My mum then came up the stairs and sat me and my sisters down in one of the bedrooms. She told us that dad wasn’t strong enough and that he was too ill. Looking back, I can now see how hard it must have been for my mum to release they words. I remember how tired she looked; she hadn’t slept the whole time that my dad was in the operation. She must have been so stressed and worried. Finally, she freed the words that My Dad had passed away while in the operation. My Daddy. My hero. I have never been as lonely as I felt in that moment of my life. At the time I didn’t understand. I just sat on the stairs waiting for my daddy to come through the front door, hoping that it was all just one big lie.
On the day of the funeral, that was the first time I realised how many lives my dad had touched. With over two hundred people attending just wanting to say their final goodbyes, seeing the number of people standing outside, not getting to hear anything being said or hearing memories being talked about, but they were all just there as a sign of respect. That day was really important to me, for saying my final goodbyes. When I stood up in front of the room full of friends and family to make my speech the only person I could picture was my dad standing up the back with his usual big grin on his face and they piercing bright blue eyes staring back at me. Seeing his face gave me the confidence I never normally have to speak in front the crowd of people sitting in silence. It made me stronger. I was determined to make my speech without a glitch and not let him down. I will never forget that moment. Since that day, I always have that feeling that my dad is watching over me and helping me to make the right decisions in life. Never letting me down.
Going back to school was really hard. I felt so scared in case no-one wanted to talk to me or if they treated me differently because I was the only person in the class whom had lost their dad. I was scared of walking in and seeing in their faces that people knew what I have been through. I wasn’t like normally family anymore. I was scared of the awkwardness with my teachers who wouldn’t know what to say me in case I started crying or acted in the wrong way to a comment that was made. There were a couple of times at school, when my friends would have said something that did upset me but I now know that they wouldn’t have understood my ‘situation’. I felt like no one wanted to be friends with me because of the circumstances, but now I understand why people didn’t want to talk to me because it rarely happened with children in primary school and it might have been the first time hearing new like that.
I will always have the memories. Although I don’t have many, I cherish each one I have of my dad. Sitting in the back garden, sun shining down and reflecting on his tanned stomach, telling me and my friend’s that his operation scar was from being attacked by a shark on holiday, making her panic and thinking that it was all true. I will always remember him picking me up from primary school every Wednesday and taking me swimming in Linlithgow. Coming out the swimming was the best bit; he would give me all his five and ten pence pieces to spend on the sweet machines. I felt like the luckiest kid in the world. Then, on the way home we would sneak into the chip shop around the corner from our house and he would buy us a haggis supper and share it before mum found out. I hated the haggis, but I realise now that I ate it because he did, so I did it. I wanted to be so much like him. Even when he had his bright red motorbike, I wanted this electrical pink toy motorbike. Every time he was tending to his bike I would be trying to reach the nearby speed bump without the battery running out and watching my dad come running down the street to push me back to his garage to charge it back up again. These memories mean so much to me and I will always keep them close to me.
When I was younger spending time with my dad meant a lot to me, running home from school and getting changed as fast as I could. Going downstairs to help my dad in the garage, working with his cars; restarting them and changing parts of the car. My dad taught me so many things like that. At the time I couldn’t think of anything better to do, than spend it with my dad and his cars.
My dad Paul Brown was one of the most amazing people in the world and did not deserve to be taken away from his family and friends. Death- it really is the one word everyone fears. Whether it’s someone you were really close to or an old friend, it always hurts when that person has to be taken away from you.
Megan,
This is a thoughtful piece and has good reflection. It is a pass, but it could be improved further.
The main thing to focus in on is upgrading your language. It is competent, but towards a more basic style.
There’s room for you to use imagery, variety of sentence patterns and to engage the reader a little more when you describe events.
You could develop the part where you gave your speech at his funeral. What emotions/thoughts were going round your mind?
The part that jars slightly is when you tell your reader that you lost your dad. This is a tragedy and something that must have been very hard to write about. At this point, can you discuss the complexity of emotions you must have felt – the hope for the operation but knowing it was an outside chance?
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