Academic Writing Assignment

It might interest you. Advice? It's kind of long.

Growing up does not happen in a day, but rather it occurs gradually, over the course of months, years, and events. When searching my mind for an occasion to write about, I could not think of one specific time after which I was grown up. Perhaps it has not fully happened yet. I did not really relate to any one of the stories in the book Growing Up in Minnesota. Perhaps because I am raised in a different mindset, not a street kid or the rebellious type. I do not swear and curse or do the gross immature things the kids did in the stories. Perhaps my imagination is dull and that is why I did not connect with their growing up stories.

In 2017 when the weather was turning from summer to fall, from green to amber, my horse began the decline of age, and I faced the dreaded question of when to say goodbye. I pushed it away, not wanting it to be reality, not wanting to make the decision. It did not take long before I caved  and all my emotions spilled out and we set a date and time to let her go. When that dreaded day came, the knowledge was the worst part. The knowledge that this was her last day, her last few hours, her last minutes. And she was calm and oblivious, not knowing her fate or worrying about it. Yet I, on the other hand, was at one moment collected and the next an emotional puddle. The goodbyes were said, and she slipped peacefully into her repose. Later my sister told me that this was a life-changer, and it would give me freedom. And she was right, I had freedom to get a car, get a job, focus more on my school and primary hobbies. Is freedom the goal of growing up?

The second occasion that I remember is when my maternal grandmother was diagnosed with cancer. My grandparents lived in New Hampshire, so my mother had a long way to travel to go be with her, and she went multiple times. On most of those trips she left me in charge of the house, the chores and the meals, with help from my sister and father. One of the biggest things I learned during that time was responsibility. I must do the work, I must be disciplined, things must be done on time. When my grandmother died, the grief was not there for me, and I do not mean that in an unfeeling way. She suffered through so much pain that death was sweet and quiet. We mourned, but the most important thing I learned was not about grief, for it was still distant to me. I learned responsibility. Is being responsible what it means to be grown up?

The third event happened just a week ago, so the thoughts and feelings are all still quite real and fresh. Late one night one of my friends killed himself. The grief and pain individuals, families, and community are feeling is immense. You would never expect that one of your friends, let alone the funny, caring, and gregarious one, would do such a devastating thing as suicide. It is a true shock when it happens. The process of denial, coping with the idea of it all, the tears, and finally the acceptance that this all really happened is something I have never known before. It is not a dream. It is reality. Inside me the hole left is gaping. I have learned how to grieve, how to deal with the aftermath no one ever wants to deal with. I have learned that suicide is selfish. I know that when I come through this I will be more grown up. But is knowing true grief part of being grown up?

All three of these stories have shaped who I am, how I have grown up, and who I will be tomorrow. They shape how I will respond to life’s adventures, tragedies, and hopes. I would not say that after each of these I was grown up, but rather that each of them helped me understand adult-hood; each of them taught me something else about being an adult. And who knows, another event will come along and teach me something new. Something else to give me that one piece closer to being complete. Being grown up means having a well-rounded view of life, and a way to be efficient and knowledgeable.