Rough draft

I have a paper due in my English class that is suppose to be about an event that changed our lives.  This has probably been one of the hardest things I have ever done because not only does it force me to look into my past but to pick it apart and to write it down for others to read.  It makes me nervous, beyond uneasy, but in a way it has been kind of nice to let it all out.  So here is the rough draft.  Mind you, it isn't done, not even close and please don't judge.  Ingwish aint me friend.


Rebecca Murdock
Dr. Jim Birrell
English 1010
September 24, 2012

Fallen Angel

In this paper I will talk about the event that changed my life forever, the day my Grandfather passed away.  At the time I looked at the event as a form of punishment from God and acted against Him but 13 years later I have realized how far from the truth I was.
I was 8 years old and had recently been baptized into the LDS Church.  A Monday morning in September my Mom received a call informing her that my Grandfather, her Dad, was once again in the hospital.  By the time my Mom picked me up from school I knew this wasn’t a small trip to the hospital like all the times in the past.
The entire family was gathered around my Grandfather’s hospital bed.  A prayer was said some where in a corner and a storm raged outside the window.  I held my Grandfather’s hand as the heart monitor stopped beating.  My life changed for the worse in that moment of silence.
First off my parents have been divorced since I was two years old.  This left my Mom forced to work a full-time job while my Grandfather stepped in to raise me as one of his own.  There was not a day in my life that I didn’t spend with him.
My Grandfather taught me right from wrong, to never give up, and to be strong.  From the very beginning my life was full of trials but with my Grandfather’s help I could face them.  Before long he became more of a Dad than a Grandfather.  He was my foundation.  He was my life.
So when my Grandfather passed away I felt more than lost, I felt abandoned by everyone.  The Church no longer mattered to me and God became my enemy.  How could the ‘All Powerful’ punish such a young girl who hasn’t done anything but survive?  How could everyone continue on with their lives when mine was destroyed.  No one even noticed when I left the Church and gave up on school.
By Christmas I had become a cold shell of a girl.  My Mom had encouraged me back into school but I never gave any attention to it.  I had pushed away all my friends and my family was in such distress by my Grandfather’s passing that I had no one left in my life.  I had devoted the rest of my life to fight against God.
When I was 12 years old I heard a story about Fallen Angels.  It was said that the Angels were God’s right-hand warriors who had done something to upset the All Mighty.  He stripped them of their wings and banished the Angels to Earth for eternal punishment.  This story sounded so similar to my own life.  Finally I had some new belief to hold onto.  Some thing to give me answers as to “Why me?”
At the time of my 16th birthday I had become a professional liar.  I had made friends that had no idea how cold my heart was.  No one knew of the daily pain I suffered.  No one could understand the constant battles I had with God.
My Grandfather was the glue that held my family together, with his passing some how I became the glue.  It was my duty to keep everyone calm and friendly, to keep everyone together.  This was a job I didn’t want.
As the years passed, trial after trial began to build up.  The lies I told were like handcuffs on my soul.  I had no bright future, no future at all.  I began to wonder how much longer I could live with my unloving heart.  I was beginning to tire from my constant war with God.