Is anyone else doing the Guidepost Scholarship? You have to write a first person essay on a moving or memorable experience. Here’s my ROUGH draft for my essay. I almost used this for a college essay, but I decided on another. I’ve had this for a while. I’ve changed some things and added some things. Please tell me how it sounds and if there are any errors in it please point them out. Thank you!
I felt numb all over on that dreary, cheerless day. Everyone had shown up for the funeral: family, friends, neighbors, etc. All had come to pay their last respects to one they had respected so deeply. I still had not fully registered what had happened. I couldnt bring myself to believe that my grandmother, my beloved Oma, had passed away. She had influenced my life in so many ways. To think that I would never see her again was unbearable. I knew she had been sick for quite some time, but I never had fully understood that she was dying. All I could do to ease my mind of this agony was to think about all of my experiences with such a wonderful woman.
When I was a little girl, I would go to my Omas house every day while my mother went to work. I really enjoyed going to her house. She would tell me stories about her childhood growing up in Nazi Germanyof being raised in a small town by the Oder River, of seeing Hitler coming down the street in a long, festive parade, and of being forced to move several times to escape the violence of the war. Oftentimes, she would teach me how to say something in German. When my mother picked me up in the afternoon, I would proudly tell her what I had learned and beg to stay just a little longer. My mother would laugh and tell me I could come back tomorrow.
As I grew older and started school, my daily trips to my Omas house stopped. Visits occurred every week or two as opposed to every day. My Oma, though, was still the same: just as fun, just as vibrant, and just as lively. Each visit she would greet me with a Guten tag (Good afternoon!), and I could always count on her Ich liebe dich (I love you) when I left. She would stay that way for several years.
As time went by, however, my family started to notice changes in my Oma. She was slowly becoming more forgetful and disorganized. I remember her asking several times whose house we were in and why we were there. We soon came to learn that she had Alzheimers. This news was devastating to me. I couldnt handle the thought of my Omas deterioration. It couldnt be true.
In the beginning, the effects the disease had on my Oma were small and often comical. One time she told my cousin Aaron and me that we made a good couple and should date. Although it was funny at first, it was sad to realize that she truly was forgetting who her grandchildren were. Soon, I knew she would forget who I was altogether.
My Oma grew progressively worse. We had to search for her around her neighborhood because she had run away, we had to pick her up from stores where she had unintentionally stolen something, and we would have to endure long conversations on the phone with her in order to convince her that she was in her own house. It became obvious that she could no longer live unattended. After much thought and deliberation, we decided that my Oma would come live with us during the day and with my aunt during the night.
Having my Oma live at our house meant sacrifices for our family. Taking care of her was our first priority. Every day after school I was in charge of her for about an hour and a half. This task required constant attention. One time, during the middle of winter, my Oma demanded that I take her to the train station to return to her deceased fathers house in Germany. Each time she tried to leave I had to escort her back through the hallway into the living room. She didnt like that and began to yell at me and hit me. I cried as I tried to calm her down. She called me a stranger and she was convinced that I was going to kill her. This was the lowest point in my Omas illness.
After a few weeks, my Oma needed help with simple things like walking across the room and using the restroom. She had become like a little child, completely dependent on others in order to survive. I had to help her do so many simple things that I took for granted. It was during this time that I realized just how blessed I was. I had my health, my family, my friends, and a countless number of other blessings to be thankful for. My complaints about a class in school or a hardship with a friend seemed utterly selfish when I looked at my Oma unable to perform simple life tasks. I set out to be more grateful for all that I had been given.
The summer after that year is when my Oma died. Looking back, it is ironic to me to see that the one who used to take care of me ended up as the one I took care of. Caring for her helped me to see how short life is, and that we must seize opportunities as they come our way or we will miss our chance to reach the dreams we have set for ourselves. When my Oma was alive, she used to tell me that I could achieve anything I set out to do. I know that if she were still here today, she would encourage me to keep my chin up and continue striving for my dreams. I promise that I will not let her down. I will continue making every effort to make my dreams a reality.