Everything Happens for a Reason
Tara LaCava
English 105-61
Narrative Essay #1
September 7, 2012
Everything Happens for a Reason
On March 28th 2004, I awoke to a loud thud on the floor above me. I rolled over to see the green neon lights from the clock; I squinted and tried to focus on the time. Rubbing the crust from my eyes I saw the clock read exactly 4:20 a.m.; something was wrong. I threw the blankets off and maneuvered through the darkness of my basement apartment. The lights were on at the top of the stairs and I could hear voices, voices in distress. Immediately, I rushed up the stairs and my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I swung the basement door open, and as my eyes adjusted to the light I saw my father, standing there with my mother crying on the floor. Before I could get any words out, I saw the police officer at the door. Even now, I can still hear my mother’s voice as if it were yesterday, sobbing, “not my baby, oh God no, not my baby!” This was the moment that changed my life forever, the night my brother died.
I went into a downward spiral during the three years after Keith’s death. I surrounded myself with people who wanted to forget their own problems as much as I wanted to forget mine, even if for just a moment. Although I was surrounded by people, I still felt completely alone. I would sleep in late, work, and then party all night. I would spend my money frivolously and call out of work, not caring if I ate ramen noodles and PB&J sandwiches for every meal. I was getting into relationships with people who were broken, unsure if I wanted to fix them or just needed someone who knew the feeling of being broken, like me. I didn’t realize what a self-destructive path I was on until I became pregnant with my daughter. The pregnancy was my motivation; that swift kick in the ass to finally do something better with my life. I wasn’t living for me anymore because I was responsible for someone else, someone who didn’t know my past and all of the
English 105-61
Narrative Essay #1
September 7, 2012
Everything Happens for a Reason
On March 28th 2004, I awoke to a loud thud on the floor above me. I rolled over to see the green neon lights from the clock; I squinted and tried to focus on the time. Rubbing the crust from my eyes I saw the clock read exactly 4:20 a.m.; something was wrong. I threw the blankets off and maneuvered through the darkness of my basement apartment. The lights were on at the top of the stairs and I could hear voices, voices in distress. Immediately, I rushed up the stairs and my heart felt like it was going to beat out of my chest. I swung the basement door open, and as my eyes adjusted to the light I saw my father, standing there with my mother crying on the floor. Before I could get any words out, I saw the police officer at the door. Even now, I can still hear my mother’s voice as if it were yesterday, sobbing, “not my baby, oh God no, not my baby!” This was the moment that changed my life forever, the night my brother died.
I went into a downward spiral during the three years after Keith’s death. I surrounded myself with people who wanted to forget their own problems as much as I wanted to forget mine, even if for just a moment. Although I was surrounded by people, I still felt completely alone. I would sleep in late, work, and then party all night. I would spend my money frivolously and call out of work, not caring if I ate ramen noodles and PB&J sandwiches for every meal. I was getting into relationships with people who were broken, unsure if I wanted to fix them or just needed someone who knew the feeling of being broken, like me. I didn’t realize what a self-destructive path I was on until I became pregnant with my daughter. The pregnancy was my motivation; that swift kick in the ass to finally do something better with my life. I wasn’t living for me anymore because I was responsible for someone else, someone who didn’t know my past and all of the