What "Family" Means to Me
(Scholastic Regional Silver Key 2013)
It was a calm, humid night in the heart of summer. As I sat on the balcony of my cherished seaside escape, the ocean breeze gently kissed my face and the scents of childhood joy and barbecuing chicken filled my nostrils. A peaceful breeze was blowing through the sweet, salty air and the world seemed to be smiling, outwardly displaying the sort of radiance only summer can bring. The scene was set for a carefree night of adventure and bliss, but my world was crashing down around me. Two days earlier, I had been relaxing by the pool, soaking up the sun and discussing all of life’s worries with my mother; two days later, her earthly hands had touched mine for the last time.
In times of distress and agony, I have always believed in the remedies of what I like to call “quote therapy.” Reading inspirational words from unknown speakers has always helped in making me feel slightly more at ease. During the worst summer of my life, being that I was in no state to change my methods, I began quote-searching and stumbled upon a profound and unforgettable statement: “Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.” At that moment, I felt like I was ending. However, my family showed me that I was only just beginning. The sun had set on one of the most important chapters of my life, and I couldn’t imagine seeing one more dazzling dawn over the ocean. Suddenly, my warm, comfortable summer had grown dark and cold. The sun could not possibly rise; the waves could not go on crashing. I felt as if the sand had turned to ice and the welcoming wooden boardwalk had become a dismal path to nowhere.
I was isolated, lost, and empty, but where I was broken, my family picked up the pieces. Though the million shattered shards of me would need some serious super glue to stay together, my family built my walls back up and proved to be all the adhesive I would need. They taught me that it’s okay to be broken, okay to cry, okay to feel like absolutely nothing in a world where everyone has everything. They were the key to my revival, the passport to any success I would achieve.
My definition of “family” most likely differs from that of the average person. Yes, my family does include my parents, grandparents, and cousins, but it also encompasses my community—the people who rushed to my side when I needed it most. The sister figure who dropped everything to come and live with me for a week, leaving the sour summer mist and the sardonic roar of the sea behind her, never looking back for so much as a final glance. The countless friends that showed up at my doorstep, proving to me that compassion and understanding lie not in a relationship formed through genetics and heredity but one simply laced in love. The pastor who left his own spiritual community and drove for five hours simply to kneel at the feet of God and a hospital bed to pray with me, despite our knowledge that without the bestowal of a miracle, such pleas would come to no avail. These are the characters, the inspirations, and the rocks of hope I hold dear to my memory—a heartbroken soul does not forget.
It was then, during that fatefully unforgettable summer, that I lost my best friend, my other half, and lost sight of who I really was. Lost in a maze of hopelessness and fear, with the dunes growing steadily higher on all sides, I was trapped. I saw no light, heard no splashing water, and could feel no end to my struggles. My faith and my future were being threatened. But it was the people around me who helped dig me out of my seemingly infinite pit. They were the ones who helped me recapture my passion, my determination, and the person my mother would surely want me to become. They melted the ice to uncover the sandcastles, they put the damp summer warmth back into the breeze, and they proved to me that the sun would indeed rise again. Whether related by blood or by will, these people molded the complex sculpture that is me, and they continue to add new bits of clay every day. So yes, I do believe we ultimately start and end with family. But it is family that shows us that there really is no end.
In times of distress and agony, I have always believed in the remedies of what I like to call “quote therapy.” Reading inspirational words from unknown speakers has always helped in making me feel slightly more at ease. During the worst summer of my life, being that I was in no state to change my methods, I began quote-searching and stumbled upon a profound and unforgettable statement: “Other things may change us, but we start and end with family.” At that moment, I felt like I was ending. However, my family showed me that I was only just beginning. The sun had set on one of the most important chapters of my life, and I couldn’t imagine seeing one more dazzling dawn over the ocean. Suddenly, my warm, comfortable summer had grown dark and cold. The sun could not possibly rise; the waves could not go on crashing. I felt as if the sand had turned to ice and the welcoming wooden boardwalk had become a dismal path to nowhere.
I was isolated, lost, and empty, but where I was broken, my family picked up the pieces. Though the million shattered shards of me would need some serious super glue to stay together, my family built my walls back up and proved to be all the adhesive I would need. They taught me that it’s okay to be broken, okay to cry, okay to feel like absolutely nothing in a world where everyone has everything. They were the key to my revival, the passport to any success I would achieve.
My definition of “family” most likely differs from that of the average person. Yes, my family does include my parents, grandparents, and cousins, but it also encompasses my community—the people who rushed to my side when I needed it most. The sister figure who dropped everything to come and live with me for a week, leaving the sour summer mist and the sardonic roar of the sea behind her, never looking back for so much as a final glance. The countless friends that showed up at my doorstep, proving to me that compassion and understanding lie not in a relationship formed through genetics and heredity but one simply laced in love. The pastor who left his own spiritual community and drove for five hours simply to kneel at the feet of God and a hospital bed to pray with me, despite our knowledge that without the bestowal of a miracle, such pleas would come to no avail. These are the characters, the inspirations, and the rocks of hope I hold dear to my memory—a heartbroken soul does not forget.
It was then, during that fatefully unforgettable summer, that I lost my best friend, my other half, and lost sight of who I really was. Lost in a maze of hopelessness and fear, with the dunes growing steadily higher on all sides, I was trapped. I saw no light, heard no splashing water, and could feel no end to my struggles. My faith and my future were being threatened. But it was the people around me who helped dig me out of my seemingly infinite pit. They were the ones who helped me recapture my passion, my determination, and the person my mother would surely want me to become. They melted the ice to uncover the sandcastles, they put the damp summer warmth back into the breeze, and they proved to me that the sun would indeed rise again. Whether related by blood or by will, these people molded the complex sculpture that is me, and they continue to add new bits of clay every day. So yes, I do believe we ultimately start and end with family. But it is family that shows us that there really is no end.