Death isn't easy
Jessica McWater Narrative Essay
Mrs. Wilson Online Draft #1
ENGL1113-NT
12 September 2014
Death isn’t easy, in fact it’s quite hard
Roughly 153,000 people died on February 25, 2013, but I have to say the most important and devastating death was my Papa. Wayne Kepner was a man everyone that had the pleasure of meeting loved. He was the most amazing man I have ever, or will ever know. Until that day I’d known many people that passed away; family, friends and acquaintances. But, the death of my Papa was the saddest, and hardest day to get through in my life.
My Papa, also known as Daddy Wayne, or formally as Wayne Kepner was born in San Diego, California on October 7, 1942. I heard many stories as a young girl about what it was like for him and his seven brother’s and sister’s growing up in a one bedroom house. It is from those days that I know my Papa developed his kindness, orneriness, and his work ethic. He didn’t realize that his love for books, cars, and music would be influential to so many people later in life. Papa raised three daughters by himself, working long hours at Otasco during the day to pay the bills, and being Mr. Mom at night. Eventually those three daughters that he raised all by himself would grow up to have children of their own, and he would be as important of a figure in their lives as he was his own children’s.
The first real memories I have of Papa are his bald head (covered in bows at any holiday), and his perfect white beard. His smile could light up any room, and his frown could have the opposite affect! Before I can actually remember Papa was still one of the most important people in my life. The story goes that when I was two, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. This called for an extended stay in the hospital. A couple of days into the stay I was not a happy camper and not only refused to eat, but insisted on doing nothing but emit blood curdling screams. My parents tried rocking, patting, singing, every
Mrs. Wilson Online Draft #1
ENGL1113-NT
12 September 2014
Death isn’t easy, in fact it’s quite hard
Roughly 153,000 people died on February 25, 2013, but I have to say the most important and devastating death was my Papa. Wayne Kepner was a man everyone that had the pleasure of meeting loved. He was the most amazing man I have ever, or will ever know. Until that day I’d known many people that passed away; family, friends and acquaintances. But, the death of my Papa was the saddest, and hardest day to get through in my life.
My Papa, also known as Daddy Wayne, or formally as Wayne Kepner was born in San Diego, California on October 7, 1942. I heard many stories as a young girl about what it was like for him and his seven brother’s and sister’s growing up in a one bedroom house. It is from those days that I know my Papa developed his kindness, orneriness, and his work ethic. He didn’t realize that his love for books, cars, and music would be influential to so many people later in life. Papa raised three daughters by himself, working long hours at Otasco during the day to pay the bills, and being Mr. Mom at night. Eventually those three daughters that he raised all by himself would grow up to have children of their own, and he would be as important of a figure in their lives as he was his own children’s.
The first real memories I have of Papa are his bald head (covered in bows at any holiday), and his perfect white beard. His smile could light up any room, and his frown could have the opposite affect! Before I can actually remember Papa was still one of the most important people in my life. The story goes that when I was two, I was diagnosed with spinal meningitis. This called for an extended stay in the hospital. A couple of days into the stay I was not a happy camper and not only refused to eat, but insisted on doing nothing but emit blood curdling screams. My parents tried rocking, patting, singing, every