INTRO
Thank you for taking your time to read my essay and critique it ! Please feel free to help with grammar, style, tone, or just make general comments.Please let me know if it sounds repetitive, impersonal,if I need to cut or expand on anything or if there are any other ways I can improve it. I had a lot of trouble trying to choose a topic to write about for my admissions essay, but ultimately I felt that if I did not write about my fathers passing I would only be avoiding the topic. I have no intention of pulling the sympathy card, I genuinely believe that this event helped shape me into the person I am today. Thank you !
PROMPT
Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
MY ESSAY
I have seen my father's killer. On the television, in pictures, in the cold hands of a poor man walking alone at night, and once, even sitting in my own home. My father's killer has ruined the lives of many. He tears families apart, he makes the rich poor, he takes heroes destined for greatness and sucks every bit of strength from their thirsty veins until all is left is the shriveled memory of what could have been.
My father's killer is heroin.
When I was young, I felt powerful. My feet took me around the block faster than any of my neighbors, my mind shouted the answers to math problems before my eyes even had a chance to see them, and my hands played music so beautiful that my mother told me Madison Square had been built for me.
November 12th 2012, that changed. We had gotten a call three days earlier, telling us that my father was in the hospital on life support. So for three days and three nights, I watched wires control the now robotic beat of his heart, as tubes and machines possessed the rest of his body. I was waiting for a moment where he would open his eyes and tell us he was okay. But instead, I heard the concerned voice of the neurologist telling my mother that there was "Nothing we could do." In that moment I lost the sense of power I carried in my childhood. Two days later, the drive to the hospital became a drive to the funeral home. In the next few weeks, the casseroles we received from neighbors overflowed the fridge, and flowers decorated every dark corner of my home. My friends told me how sorry they were and my teachers told me it would get better, but at the time all forms of comfort felt empty. My mother was forced to take more shifts at work. She worked nights, so my brother and I rarely saw her. Trying to find balance between watching my brother, doing my schoolwork, having a social life, and making it to practices and rehearsals was overwhelming. My feet had turned to stone, my mind absent, and my hands cold. My heart was heavy, and I felt that the world weighed on my shoulders in his absence.
In the beginning I would wish for his return, but deep inside I knew that all the wishes in the world could not break the laws of life and death. My junior year, I began searching for signs that he was watching. I would help the older woman who lived next to us tend to her garden, or play her music while she read, thinking maybe he might see me. I smiled at strangers, and began applied myself in school, thinking that maybe he would be proud of the person I was becoming. I began volunteering and getting more involved. Ultimately, I found that by helping others and by making myself happy, I felt close to him.
Losing my father was the most difficult thing I have ever had to go through, but it has made me the kind, hardworking, and determined person I am today. By reaching out to others and making them happy, and letting them do the same for me, the weight on my heart seemed lighter. This experience has brought me closer to myself and my family, while making me a more open minded, accepting individual, and motivating me to make wise decisions about my future. Although I lost the sense of power I had as a child, I have found a new sense of control in taking times of defeat and sorrow, and turning them into opportunities to better myself and the world around me.
Thank you for taking your time to read my essay and critique it ! Please feel free to help with grammar, style, tone, or just make general comments.Please let me know if it sounds repetitive, impersonal,if I need to cut or expand on anything or if there are any other ways I can improve it. I had a lot of trouble trying to choose a topic to write about for my admissions essay, but ultimately I felt that if I did not write about my fathers passing I would only be avoiding the topic. I have no intention of pulling the sympathy card, I genuinely believe that this event helped shape me into the person I am today. Thank you !
PROMPT
Some students have a background, identity, interest, or talent that is so meaningful they believe their application would be incomplete without it. If this sounds like you, then please share your story.
MY ESSAY
I have seen my father's killer. On the television, in pictures, in the cold hands of a poor man walking alone at night, and once, even sitting in my own home. My father's killer has ruined the lives of many. He tears families apart, he makes the rich poor, he takes heroes destined for greatness and sucks every bit of strength from their thirsty veins until all is left is the shriveled memory of what could have been.
My father's killer is heroin.
When I was young, I felt powerful. My feet took me around the block faster than any of my neighbors, my mind shouted the answers to math problems before my eyes even had a chance to see them, and my hands played music so beautiful that my mother told me Madison Square had been built for me.
November 12th 2012, that changed. We had gotten a call three days earlier, telling us that my father was in the hospital on life support. So for three days and three nights, I watched wires control the now robotic beat of his heart, as tubes and machines possessed the rest of his body. I was waiting for a moment where he would open his eyes and tell us he was okay. But instead, I heard the concerned voice of the neurologist telling my mother that there was "Nothing we could do." In that moment I lost the sense of power I carried in my childhood. Two days later, the drive to the hospital became a drive to the funeral home. In the next few weeks, the casseroles we received from neighbors overflowed the fridge, and flowers decorated every dark corner of my home. My friends told me how sorry they were and my teachers told me it would get better, but at the time all forms of comfort felt empty. My mother was forced to take more shifts at work. She worked nights, so my brother and I rarely saw her. Trying to find balance between watching my brother, doing my schoolwork, having a social life, and making it to practices and rehearsals was overwhelming. My feet had turned to stone, my mind absent, and my hands cold. My heart was heavy, and I felt that the world weighed on my shoulders in his absence.
In the beginning I would wish for his return, but deep inside I knew that all the wishes in the world could not break the laws of life and death. My junior year, I began searching for signs that he was watching. I would help the older woman who lived next to us tend to her garden, or play her music while she read, thinking maybe he might see me. I smiled at strangers, and began applied myself in school, thinking that maybe he would be proud of the person I was becoming. I began volunteering and getting more involved. Ultimately, I found that by helping others and by making myself happy, I felt close to him.
Losing my father was the most difficult thing I have ever had to go through, but it has made me the kind, hardworking, and determined person I am today. By reaching out to others and making them happy, and letting them do the same for me, the weight on my heart seemed lighter. This experience has brought me closer to myself and my family, while making me a more open minded, accepting individual, and motivating me to make wise decisions about my future. Although I lost the sense of power I had as a child, I have found a new sense of control in taking times of defeat and sorrow, and turning them into opportunities to better myself and the world around me.