Here it goes. Little nervous

Well. I debated whether or not to just completely let people know about me. But, I decided I would. Here is my paper. Yes its long......its a paper. First, I want to say that everything that has happened in my life was in His hands. I'm thankful for that.

DEALING WITH GRIEF IN MY OWN WAY
Its interesting how one single event can have such a colossal effect on our lives. Most people view death as being the worst case scenario. Some say nothing good can come out of something so terrible, but I disagree. The experiences we have don’t have to have only a positive or negative effect, in some cases it is both. My mother dying when I was nine years old deeply influenced every aspect of my life, and the grieving process I went through.
I can still remember it like it was yesterday. It was August 2, 1994, this Tuesday started just like any other summer day. We lived four miles north-west of Eureka in a gigantic, blue, two-story house with a humongous yard. I was playing with my brothers and sister for most of the day. At the time, my oldest brother, Josh, was twelve years old; I was nine years old and my youngest brother, Zach, was six years old. My little sister, Sara, was four years old. My dad was at work, as usual, on Tuesdays.
Later on in the day, my mother called us in earlier than usual to get cleaned up for supper. That night we were having a special awards ceremony for the little league baseball teams. My team was undefeated, and we received first place. We were kind of running a little behind. After mom fed us, we headed outside towards our 1992 Pontiac Transport minivan. For some unknown reason the doors were locked along with the keys inside. As a result, all five of us hopped in our 1983 pickup truck and headed down the road. My mom was driving and next to her was Zach, then me, then Josh, and Sara was sitting on Josh’s lap. The second mile of our road is gravel and our pickup had kind of loose steering. When we hit the gravel we began to slide and headed towards the ditch. The last thing I remember my mother saying is “Hold on you guys,” as we
headed straight for a telephone pole. The next thing I know, I’m hearing my brother Josh say he’s going to get help. The closest place was nearly a mile away. I looked over at my mom and she didn’t appear to be hurt in any way. So, I said, “mom, mom,” but she never replied. I listened for her heart beat, but there wasn’t one. I was terrified. I screamed “She’s not breathing!” and by that time we had gotten out of the truck through the passenger door. My brother and sister were crying and screaming “Mom’s dead!” I told them no she’s not, but that didn’t help. When Josh reached the nearest house he called the ambulance and they took my mother to St. Francis Hospital and took me and my siblings to Eureka Hospital. I found out later, when I pieced things together, that my mother had turned the truck wheel at the last second, so that only her side of the truck would hit the pole. She gave her life to save us.
In the next few years, I let a lot of negative effects occur. First and foremost, I didn’t remember events leading up to her death or those immediately following. I’ve come to realize that, that was the first step of the grieving process according to Elisabeth Kübler-Ross. Following the numbness, for quite some time I didn’t believe she was dead. I thought perhaps she was living somewhere else. Maybe she had another secret life. This thinking was part two of the grieving process that Kübler-Ross documented. I had nightmares for a long time. Once reality hit with an iron fist, I became enraged. I began to ask questions like: why did God take her from us? We needed her. I was extremely depressed. Not wanting to show it, I buried my emotions deep inside me. I took my anger out on those I loved. For example, I would yell at my brother Zach if he wouldn’t change the television station to Spiderman. I also took advantage of my dad’s big soft heart. I love to eat, and he would tell me to stop when I knew I should, but I would just say no and yell until he would give in.
In 1995, we moved to Roanoke, IL. My dad opened a used car lot. That October my dad got remarried to Kimberly Hoffman. My dad was thirty-seven and she was twenty-five. I really didn’t like her. I was so used to getting my way and she was stronger-willed than dad. She would stick with her answers. We constantly fought. She recognized my hidden anger and took me to counseling. It didn’t help. I didn’t want to let go of the hurt. Sometimes at school I would cry. I never liked confrontations and often would cry. I was an emotional wreck.
On the other hand, I have learned a lot of positive things through her death. I’ve grown to love Roanoke and never want to leave. We never would have moved to Roanoke if my mom hadn’t died. Along with that, I’ve made lots of lifelong friendships in Roanoke through school and church. On October 11, 2000 my mom and dad had a baby boy- Daniel Patrick Maher. He really brought our family closer. Before he was born there wasn’t a common bond between my family and Kim But, this cute bundle of joy changed all that. Progressively, my relationship with Kim has improved.
I whole-heartedly believe that I am who I am today because of her death. I feel that this experience made me more of a compassionate caring guy because her death softened me. It gave me the ability to relate to others in a whole new way. I can share in others hurting and offer advice because I’ve been there. That’s why I’m becoming a Funeral Director. My mother’s death also made me very aware of heaven and hell. It made me really question what I believe. Her death made me want to go to heaven where she was. So, on November 5, 2002 I decided to become a member of the church that I attended. There I found answers to questions I couldn’t find out before. For example, I found that everything fits into God’s timing and it was time for my mother to be with him. I also discovered that life goes on and we can whine and complain about it, or we can trust that God is in control.
The death of my mother had very significant effects on my life. Although a death in the family is usually bad, my mom’s death taught me to look on the positive side. It proves that positive things can come out of bad experiences.

Romans 8:28
Psalm 37:4