Essay on The Speech On The Road Of Recovery
As most high schoolers do, my friends and I spent the brisk autumn Friday nights cheering on our football team. Looking back, it seems like we spent more time getting ready for football games than we did for the prom. Our faces caked with blue and gold paint, pom-poms in hand, and three layers of socks to protect our toes from the chilly Wisconsin wind—we were ready for the game. The crowd belted loud chants, jeered the refs, and roared as the final buzzer sounded. Well… almost all the games went like this, until the one game in particular changed my life forever. Friday, September 27, 2013; this was the night I realized that something was drastically missing from my life.
As the game ended, a cloud of silence came over the crowd. Something was happening on the field, someone was injured…it was Turner. Turner had collapsed to the ground and no one knew what was going on, but rumors spread quickly that he had a seizure. As the ambulance and paramedics rushed onto the field, the crowd remained frozen.
I have never felt a fear as overwhelming as I did that night. Turner was one of my best friends. In our kindergarten Christmas program, we were Mary and Joseph. We walked down the aisle together for our First Communion and during summer vacation, we cruised through the countryside on our bikes. It was the kind of friendship where you knew you would always be there for each other; Turner was the kind of friend I would never want to lose.