Please, criticism is desperately needed.
"Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family."
It was white, soft, and cold to the touch. My first encounter with snow while I was visiting Korea was breathtaking; fresh, fluffy snowflakes burst through the clouds, coating every rock and tree with beauty as well as muting all sounds with serene silence. In my innocent ten year-old mind, I believed that nothing could change my association between winter and wonder, but it was only a few hours after this encounter that I resolutely understood the fatal melancholic aspect of winter.
"Dad, wake up!" I gleefully screamed to him in his bed.
"Dad?" "Why aren't you waking up?"
I started pounding my tiny fists on the chest of his motionless body.
"Surprise!!" screamed my father as he raised me up in the air.
The tears running down my mother's face woke me from my reverie. The unforgettable pained look as she dropped the phone made me fear for the worst. There was no "surprise" this time. There was only the silence that ensued from my father's still heart.
The winter that was once a definition of awe and delight became a constant remembrance of solemnity and sorrow. The winter that first seemed innocent had now left my mother, sister and me in peril, helpless to the cold world. If only I had urged my father to come to Korea with us. If only I had recognized his heart pains. If only I had been able to say one last goodbye. Regret was the painful gift from winter.
The overwhelming void, the profound emptiness, changed my life. My father's tender voice that I woke up to every morning was replaced with my mother's soft cries. I clearly understood at that time that our financial stability crumbled because our weekly dinner out disappeared. My mother's nervous breakdowns that took place in front of my eyes made me question my worth in the family. Was this all that I could contribute as the new man of the house? Would I only be able to watch my mother fall apart? Nothing could compare to the helplessness that I felt.
However, as even the most unforgiving winter makes way to the sunlit spring, my hardships transformed into determination. The passing of my father forced me to take on challenges at an early age and develop an acute awareness of my family. Seeing my mother's effort as she tried to raise me and my sister the best she could, I understood her pains and her aspirations. She was the epitome of sacrifice, and I knew that her happiness would be the result of my success.
It's been seven years since my first encounter with snow. My perception of winter has changed forever, and the season has become my remembrance of death. However, it was through this experience that I was able to gain the strength and courage to protect myself and my family from any ordeal. The tree that survives the winter will ultimately blossom in the spring.
"Discuss an accomplishment or event, formal or informal, that marked your transition from childhood to adulthood within your culture, community, or family."
It was white, soft, and cold to the touch. My first encounter with snow while I was visiting Korea was breathtaking; fresh, fluffy snowflakes burst through the clouds, coating every rock and tree with beauty as well as muting all sounds with serene silence. In my innocent ten year-old mind, I believed that nothing could change my association between winter and wonder, but it was only a few hours after this encounter that I resolutely understood the fatal melancholic aspect of winter.
"Dad, wake up!" I gleefully screamed to him in his bed.
"Dad?" "Why aren't you waking up?"
I started pounding my tiny fists on the chest of his motionless body.
"Surprise!!" screamed my father as he raised me up in the air.
The tears running down my mother's face woke me from my reverie. The unforgettable pained look as she dropped the phone made me fear for the worst. There was no "surprise" this time. There was only the silence that ensued from my father's still heart.
The winter that was once a definition of awe and delight became a constant remembrance of solemnity and sorrow. The winter that first seemed innocent had now left my mother, sister and me in peril, helpless to the cold world. If only I had urged my father to come to Korea with us. If only I had recognized his heart pains. If only I had been able to say one last goodbye. Regret was the painful gift from winter.
The overwhelming void, the profound emptiness, changed my life. My father's tender voice that I woke up to every morning was replaced with my mother's soft cries. I clearly understood at that time that our financial stability crumbled because our weekly dinner out disappeared. My mother's nervous breakdowns that took place in front of my eyes made me question my worth in the family. Was this all that I could contribute as the new man of the house? Would I only be able to watch my mother fall apart? Nothing could compare to the helplessness that I felt.
However, as even the most unforgiving winter makes way to the sunlit spring, my hardships transformed into determination. The passing of my father forced me to take on challenges at an early age and develop an acute awareness of my family. Seeing my mother's effort as she tried to raise me and my sister the best she could, I understood her pains and her aspirations. She was the epitome of sacrifice, and I knew that her happiness would be the result of my success.
It's been seven years since my first encounter with snow. My perception of winter has changed forever, and the season has become my remembrance of death. However, it was through this experience that I was able to gain the strength and courage to protect myself and my family from any ordeal. The tree that survives the winter will ultimately blossom in the spring.
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