Death is ultimately the inverse of life. Yet death has shown me how to live. With all the horrible aspects death has displayed to our world, it may be hard to realize that this fear in most people’s hearts has revealed to me its alter ego. As I venture back in my short lifespan, I slowly adapt in my mind that all so famous “what might have been” mentality. I cannot help but enjoy a relaxing sigh of relief as I picture my life without death. My father has been the canvas which death has painted its signature. But sympathy is not welcome here. I have only death to thank for the person I am today, and for that I am grateful.
As this November 14th draws near, I cannot help but recall the event that had the most significant impact on my life. My father had been battling cancer for three hard years when two days after his 48th birthday, it spread to his bloodstream and took his life. I was eleven and unaware of the full effect of this incident. All I can remember and what I have been told about my life before he passed was something that I should be yearning to get back. Full of lavish cars and frivolous spending, I was living the life I now am happy to have left. My mother in all of her best intentions, sought to make my life as unaffected as possible.
I went through my private high school, growing up with some of the richest children in my city. I was always the only one of my friends to work. But it built character. I was the only one of my friends who did not receive a new car at 16. But my used car is just fine and more than some kids get to enjoy. And when my mother developed breast cancer my senior year, my friends wondered how I still made it to school everyday and obtained an uplifting attitude. And then the answer hit me. Not one of my friends had ever wondered if God hated them or was punishing them. Not one of my friends had ever cried so hard because they wanted to die. Not one of my friends had ever been told no by their parents because there just isn’t enough money. I soon realized that I would be exactly like them if my father was still alive: inexperienced and naïve.
Though if I asked my friends if they ever wished to be “experienced” like me, all I would hear is “HELL NO”. Yet I feel sorry for them. Death has shown me the good in this world and the aspects to really appreciate. I am not afraid of death because I know within the pain blossoms something beautiful. Without death there can be no true life. And without a true life, what is there to live for?
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