I remember every detail of that afternoon. The crisp January air, the warmth of the sun on my face, the squealing of brakes as the school bus stopped at the end of my street. The scents, thoughts, and emotions all come flooding back.
I ran to the house as soon as I got off of the bus that day, I had BIG news to share with my mom. Out of breath, I reached for the door knob, yanked the door open and stopped in my tracks. From the threshold I gaped at my mom. She was standing in the middle of the living room, clenching a tissue and crying. I had never seen my mom so distraught. Moments later, my brother comes up to the door and curiously peers over my shoulder. Neither of us knowing what is going on, we walk in, fearing the news. My mom embraced both of us and with tears in her eyes tells us that Uncle Evan had passed away. At the age of 36 he had a seizure that was too much for him to handle, and he didn’t make it.
I was in the third grade the day my uncle died. At nine, death is a hard concept to grasp, but looking back on the event I realize it is necessary to live life for the moment. I believe that life is too short to hold on to the bad. I believe life is not long enough to hope for better. I believe I must cherish what I have, thank God for what He has given me, and live my life right now. When I will die, God is the only one that knows, but I believe in living my life as if I will die tomorrow. I believe in living for the moment.
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