Think of me as a sculpture. I will not take final form until my death. Upon birth, the people in my life were given a blank, white, rectangular block of marble. Every person I have come in contact with has made some impression upon me. Of all my sculptors, two have distinctly shaped me.
My father, John Charles S, lived to be sixty-one years old. He helped me to love math, X-files, telling bad stories, classic rock, and everything obscure. He carefully set up my foundation, a good and solid foundation, to which others would add details. He loved and cherished my brother and me. He was a gentle, compassionate and well-spoken man. In fact, one of my fondest childhood memories was his nightly readings of Harry Potter. He had his subtleties for each character and transformed himself into them. My brother and I couldn’t get enough of his reading; he was infectious and so too was his personality. He always urged me to greet everyone with a smile and to speak up – both things he had practiced and he had perfected himself. Because these were important to him, I worked and worked at them. He was unable to impart all of his knowledge, and so, his death when I was fifteen left jagged fissures in my marble, but my mom, my brother, and Katie were there to repair me.
Katie Frances S is my girlfriend of two years and nine months – my love. We had already been going out for over a year when my father died, and she was there to console me. I was and always will be warmed by her embrace. She has helped carve the smile on my face, something she did by always being there for me, by always having a little less-than-serious attitude. And so I have found that she and I are in an adult-like relationship while still living as kids – a blissful, beautiful confusion. For example, we tease each other a lot. We know when to be serious, but to keep in touch with reality, we just need to put everything on pause for a second and just have fun. So if I’m rambling when I’m talking, then well, she lovingly tells me to shove it. She has detailed me, and she has especially contributed love. Love is something immeasurable, invisible, and inconceivable, yet something which internally shapes us.
I have experienced two things rare to teenagers: the sorrow of the loss of a parent and the love shared by two individuals who know they share an “adult” relationship. These two things have impacted my life, but they haven’t made me a man; I am still a loud and boisterous boy. Perhaps my eyes are more searching, but this is simply in an attempt to observe all I can. Through this process, I have noticed one main thing – you could make it my epitaph: I have simply found that “Love is free and sorrow is very costly.”
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