My_Crystal_Moment_Paper_Rough_Draft

Sometimes death can bring new life.The juxtaposition of the loss of my grandmother, the downward spiral into depression and the birth of my son are the clearest pivotal moments in my life. Having lost someone that I loved so much changed my outlook on living. I became someone my family didn't recognize, and it wasn't until the birth of my son that I realized that I had been in a depression for three years. I was about 16 years old when my life changed forever. My grandmother died from stroke complications and life as I knew it was different. My grandmother was more like a mother to me than a grandmother. She raised me, practically, from birth. She taught me how to prey, how to cook and how to be accountable for my actions. She would always tell me, “ Start your day with a prayer and God will follow you throughout, but start your day with selfish thoughts and your days will be short.” Most of what I have learned in life I owe to the wisdom of both my paternal grandmother and grandfather. They both provided me with opportunities to travel, be a musician, a minister, a chef, and even a councilor to my peers. They felt it was important that I be well rounded in all things so I was never limited by my imagination. With the wisdom of two times my generation I had history teachers at my disposal. The relationship between my grandmother and I was one very similar to best friends. She was my emotional support system and my spiritual guidance councilor, always using the bible to shape decision and actions. She helped mold me into a youth pastor and guidance councilor to my peers. Always saying, “God gave us the tools to live and we must help our fellow bretheren.” She taught me how to be a respectable young lady, with a mind of my own. She showed me how to carry my self and how to speak up for what's right and for things that I believe in. She influenced me to be an individual and to lead instead of follow. But when she died it felt like all she taught me died with her. Without my grandmother's famous smile, dancing over a pot of stew, home just didn't seem like home. I started to rebel against what I knew to be right and I stopped praying. I stopped believing in everything. I felt that without her there was no point to continue being good, doing good or even following my dreams. My dream had died with her. I lived this way for three years not knowing that I had become unrecognizable to the people that knew me best. Family would make comments saying, “ you have changed and your not acting like the Katylia we know, whats going on'” I would just simply turn my head and say, “ if you think I'm acting different than you really didn't know me, I'm the same person I have always been.” but this was far from the truth. I didn't care about the morals I had or valuse. I started sneaking around and steeling my grandfather's cars. I would lie all the time and stopped caring about my language, style of dress or how my outward appearance looked. I just didn't care anymore. With my rebellion level on high I started having sex and at that point I realized that I had changed, not for the worst but for the better. I started thinking that everything my grandmother taught me was a lie. All of the stories she told me about saving myself for marriage went out the window. I thought knew what was best and now that she was dead nothing could stop me from living life like I wanted to. That was until I got pregnant. The day I found out I had conceived, reality set in and I knew I had to change. I was about to be a mother and that meant responsibility. Not just responsibility for my actions but for the things and people that would surround my child. I knew I had to believe again, to believe in myself and my goals. To believe that even with the mistakes I had made I could still accomplish my goals. The birth of my child gave me hope and refocused me. It centered me and brought me back closer to the woman my grandmother was raising and would have been proud of. I owe the makeup of who I am to my grandmother and her teachings. With all the delicious recipes and scriptures she has taught me, I do believe she is still with me in heart. And as long as I keep her memory alive I will never be without her. With that, I am able to pass all the things she has taught me to my son and continue the legacy she started with me. The corrections made by, Martha Dickinson and paper written by me. Sometimes death can bring new life. The juxtaposition of the loss of my grandmother, the downward spiral into depression and the birth of my son are the clearest pivotal moments in my life. Having lost someone that I loved so much changed my outlook on living. I became someone my family didn't recognize, and it wasn't until the birth of my son that I realized that I had been in a depression for three years. I was about 16 years old when my life changed forever. My grandmother died from stroke complications and life as I knew it was different. My grandmother was more like a mother to me than a grandmother. She raised me, practically, from birth. She taught me how to prey, how to cook and how to be accountable for my actions. She would always tell me, “ Start your day with a prayer and God will follow you throughout, but start your day with selfish thoughts and your days will be short.” Most of what I have learned in life I owe to the wisdom of both my paternal grandmother and grandfather. They both provided me with opportunities to travel, be a musician, a minister, a chef, and even a councilor to my peers. They felt it was important that I be well rounded in all things so I was never limited by my imagination. With the wisdom of two times my generation I had history teachers at my disposal. The relationship between my grandmother and I was one very similar to best friends. She was my emotional support system and my spiritual guidance councilor, always using the bible to shape decision and actions. She helped mold me into a youth pastor and guidance councilor to my peers, always saying, “God gave us the tools to live and we must help our fellow brethren.” She taught me how to be a respectable young lady, with a mind of my own, and showed me how to carry my self, and how to speak up for what's right, and for things that I believe in. She influenced me to be an individual and to lead instead of follow. But when she died it felt like all she taught me died with her. Without my grandmother's famous smile, dancing over a pot of stew, home just didn't seem like home. I started to rebel against what I knew to be right and I stopped praying, I stopped believing in everything. I felt that without her there was no point to continue being good, doing good or even following my dreams. My dream had died with her. I lived this way for three years not knowing that I had become unrecognizable to the people that knew me best. Family would make comments saying, “ you have changed and your not acting like the Katylia we know, whats going on'” I would just simply turn my head and say, “ if you think I'm acting different than you really didn't know me, I'm the same person I have always been.” but this was far from the truth. I didn't care about the morals I had or values. I started sneaking around and stealing my grandfather's cars. I would lie all the time and stopped caring about my language, style of dress or how my outward appearance looked. I just didn't care anymore. With my rebellion level on high I started having sex and at that point I realized that I had changed, not for the better but for the worse, I started thinking that everything my grandmother taught me was a lie. All of the stories she told me about saving myself for marriage went out the window, I thought knew what was best and now that she was dead nothing could stop me from living life like I wanted to. That was until I got pregnant. The day I found out I had conceived, reality set in and I knew I had to change. I was about to be a mother and that meant responsibility. Not just responsibility for my actions but for the things and people that would surround my child. I knew I had to believe again, to believe in myself and my goals, to believe that even with the mistakes I had made I could still accomplish my goals. The birth of my child gave me hope and refocused me, it centered me and brought me back closer to the woman my grandmother was raising, and would have been proud of. I owe the makeup of who I am to my grandmother and her teachings. With all the delicious recipes and scriptures she has taught me, I do believe she is still with me in heart. And as long as I keep her memory alive I will never be without her, with that, I am able to pass all the things she has taught me to my son and continue the legacy she started with me.