Life's Lessons: Our Unexpected Teachers - Essay Sample

Introduction

In this journey of life, we are always trying to a great extent to live the best we can. However, we cannot help tripping or coming into contact with situations that we would rather not have experienced. From some of the most exciting or heart-wrenching cases, one learns a lesson. The adverse circumstances have a great penchant for teaching us the hard truths about life. They strike a part of us that could probably have not been struck if they never happened. In the course of my short or long life, I have learned to cherish every day because tomorrow is never a promise.

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Back in Grade Six, everything to me happened because it had to happen. We played in school because we had to play, it was guaranteed. We had friends because it was supposed to be like that, nobody should be in school without friends. Everything that happened every day was preset to happen as it did, and every other day would come and pass as a matter of normalcy. That was my mindset. In my imagination, life was a natural cause without blemishes along the way. It was about waking up, spending the day in school, and returning home in the evening. Weekends and holidays were family time, and Christmas was time for family get-togethers. Everything had been figured out for eternity, and that could not be changed – at least according to my naïve mind.

Then one morning came. Shock, devastation, tears, and disbelief are the only range of words that could describe the day. The school bus was late to pick me up for school, but it eventually did. I was late for school, and to my disappointment, I did not find my desk mate in class. Everyone seemed worried and scared. I asked a few of them if they had any idea why he was not in, and they did not look like having the slightest idea. However, there was a wind of information the class that the school bus operating their route had been involved in an accident that morning. However, in my mind, accidents were not meant for my friends, not my desk mates. After all, we had plans for the whole week. We had to execute them.

Over the break hour, the class teacher called me over to the office. She broke the worst news I could have ever expected. My desk-mate had been involved in an accident that morning. Worse even, he was fighting for his life in the hospital. The teacher tagged me along to check on him during the lunch hour break. Smith was there in the hospital, lying motionless and on machine support. Tears rolled down my cheeks. I begged Smith to fight, to keep strong, to remember our plans, and get through this. I don't know if he ever heard me, but he had to remember our plans. When leaving the hospital premises, I spotted my father's car in the parking lot.

Well, my dad was not a healthcare practitioner. What could he be doing in the hospital? Just as I was wondering, my dad came out of the driver's cabin. I rushed to meet him and enquire what he was doing there. Well, he bore sad news again. For a second time that day, a close person had been admitted to hospital. This time, it was my grandma. She is the person who hosts the family get-togethers every Christmas. I had to reassure myself that it was just a routine checkup for an aging woman. But even before convincing me, dad interjected my line of thought. He informed me that grandma had fallen off the staircase that morning and got a severe concussion. She was in the intensive care unit. No, that could not be my grandmother. I was devastated. What sort of a coincidence could that be? One day, two accidents, and the reality of losing them both was unimaginable.

The journey home that evening was blurred by images of the two lying helplessly in their hospital beds. I had never imagined watching my close relatives and friends suffering in that sense. Accidents were never made for us. They were never meant for my people and me, accidents were for others. Yes, others whom I did not know or whom I had never heard about before. My life was about the cycle of school, home, fun, and family. There was no appetite for supper that day, no strength to take assignments, and not even the motivation to feel playful as usual. I just threw myself on the bed and allowed my mind to wander.

A week later, the already weak body of grandma could not fight any further. She succumbed, it was painful, and this triggered the thoughts of losing Smith. No, I kept convincing myself that they could never go at the same time. After two weeks of hospitalization, Smith started regaining a little strength. He could speak a bit, and he could turn a little. There was hope in this case. A month of hospitalization and Smith was out of the hospital. But it was devastating. The boy who I knew before the accident never came back. Smith's substitute was always in the wheelchair, and we could never play. He could only watch as others played. However, he was a strong character. Whenever anyone showed him sympathy, he would dismiss them. His standard line was, "I am lucky to be alive; that is all that matters."

His catchphrase has lived with me to date. It is always a fine line to remind me that tomorrow is never guaranteed; tomorrow is never a promise. Every day is a chance to live a better life and to be grateful for the gift of life. Every time I kick a soccer ball on the pitch is never to be taken for granted; rather, it is a blessing. Every time I meet a family member is not because get-togethers are a guarantee; times and tides change the cause of life every single day. The events of one day changed the pattern and cause of life the way I knew it. On that account, I never pass up the chance of being glad for every day, because tomorrow is never a guarantee for any single human being.