Essay for Common app- is it too descriptive/not enough reflection/awkward transitions? The word count is 586 words, though I heard as long as it's not over 600, it's okay. Any feedback is appreciated!
My feet seemed stuck to the ground, and I was shocked into silence by the news I had just received. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palm, the dull pain acting as an anesthetic for my mind. My mouth was open, but I could find no words to say after learning my grandfather had died.
His death seemed like something that hadn't really happened; as if I was watching these events unfold on the TV screen. After all, I had seen him just fourteen days before, during our annual return to Taiwan from the United States- my mother, father, and I happily reunited with our extended family for two short weeks.
My grandfather was never inactive. He always challenged himself to learn something new; even though he could have retired, he chose not to relax and settle down, much to the dismay of my grandmother. Instead, he relocated and took up a job in Guam, an unfamiliar environment, both in language and culture. He would often call, and we would discuss the day's events- he in his heavily accented English, and I in my broken Chinese. The language barrier between us somewhat inhibited our communication, but he never gave up on trying to understand me. Through this battle between comprehension and speaking our respective languages, with the occasional help from my parents, I was able to better learn the subtle nuances of each language. My grandfather was a source of a never-ending supply of knowledge, his every word like a bubble of knowledge, ready to burst and enrich my mind with its contents.
The advent of his sickness stopped his ability continue doing the things that he loved. After spending months in the hospital and going through a first surgery, all seemed to be well. However, water again began to leak into his lungs. As doctors scrambled to find the source of this liquid, my grandfather laid on the hospital bed, once again debilitated by illness. A newfound hope came in the form of a second surgery, and he immediately decided to go for it; anything to get out of that hospital bed.
Seeing my grandfather struggle with his affliction instilled a different kind of passion for science within me. I always had an innate, casual, curiosity about science; discovering the particular mechanisms by how the cells interacted and recognized each other, how simple proteins encoded our existence, was interesting and I figured the knowledge would help me out later in life. The doctors' inability to heal my grandfather showed me how much there is left to discover about the world, even in our own human bodies. What was once wonder now became a personal desire to learn more about the factors that contribute to disease, in hopes that no other person would have to endure what my grandfather went through, the lack of closure and lying in wait, hoping that something would come along that could save him.
There are only twenty four hours in one day. Sleep already takes up six hours of that precious time. My grandfather's death made me reevaluate how I wanted to spend those remaining eighteen hours. I would extend every second of my life, and fill every tick of the clock with something new, like learning how to fence, or watching the latest NOVA Science Now show on the anatomy of the giant squid. I want to follow in my grandfather's footsteps; to never be at rest, and to utilize every moment of time I have here.
My feet seemed stuck to the ground, and I was shocked into silence by the news I had just received. My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palm, the dull pain acting as an anesthetic for my mind. My mouth was open, but I could find no words to say after learning my grandfather had died.
His death seemed like something that hadn't really happened; as if I was watching these events unfold on the TV screen. After all, I had seen him just fourteen days before, during our annual return to Taiwan from the United States- my mother, father, and I happily reunited with our extended family for two short weeks.
My grandfather was never inactive. He always challenged himself to learn something new; even though he could have retired, he chose not to relax and settle down, much to the dismay of my grandmother. Instead, he relocated and took up a job in Guam, an unfamiliar environment, both in language and culture. He would often call, and we would discuss the day's events- he in his heavily accented English, and I in my broken Chinese. The language barrier between us somewhat inhibited our communication, but he never gave up on trying to understand me. Through this battle between comprehension and speaking our respective languages, with the occasional help from my parents, I was able to better learn the subtle nuances of each language. My grandfather was a source of a never-ending supply of knowledge, his every word like a bubble of knowledge, ready to burst and enrich my mind with its contents.
The advent of his sickness stopped his ability continue doing the things that he loved. After spending months in the hospital and going through a first surgery, all seemed to be well. However, water again began to leak into his lungs. As doctors scrambled to find the source of this liquid, my grandfather laid on the hospital bed, once again debilitated by illness. A newfound hope came in the form of a second surgery, and he immediately decided to go for it; anything to get out of that hospital bed.
Seeing my grandfather struggle with his affliction instilled a different kind of passion for science within me. I always had an innate, casual, curiosity about science; discovering the particular mechanisms by how the cells interacted and recognized each other, how simple proteins encoded our existence, was interesting and I figured the knowledge would help me out later in life. The doctors' inability to heal my grandfather showed me how much there is left to discover about the world, even in our own human bodies. What was once wonder now became a personal desire to learn more about the factors that contribute to disease, in hopes that no other person would have to endure what my grandfather went through, the lack of closure and lying in wait, hoping that something would come along that could save him.
There are only twenty four hours in one day. Sleep already takes up six hours of that precious time. My grandfather's death made me reevaluate how I wanted to spend those remaining eighteen hours. I would extend every second of my life, and fill every tick of the clock with something new, like learning how to fence, or watching the latest NOVA Science Now show on the anatomy of the giant squid. I want to follow in my grandfather's footsteps; to never be at rest, and to utilize every moment of time I have here.
