Personal Narrative Essays About Love

Never To Feel His Love Again

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Never To Feel His Love Again

 

"Early this morning tragedy struck West High School" Principal Simmons' somber voice echoed over the intercom just after the first period tardy bell on Tuesday, January 7, 1997. The grave tone of his voice immediately got my attention as I sat in Spanish class, and I listened for an explanation, expecting to hear that my World History teacher, who was struggling with cancer, had died. Mr. Simmons continued, "Mr. David Butler was killed in a house fire early this morning." Mr. Simmons still spoke, but I was oblivious to everything except the name "Mr. Butler." In total shock I sat motionless with my mind racing. Suddenly and uncontrollably the tears came. I could not speak. I could not feel. This man changed my life; he gave me a true love of learning. He was my friend, and I never even got a chance to tell him.

 

I walked into Mr. Butler's class at Piedmont Open Middle School for the first time as a timid eighth grader eager to learn geometry, yet a little wary of the entire class of ninth graders I was joining. From day one, Mr. Butler demonstrated a love of math and an even deeper love of his students. Granted, Mr. Butler was hard on the students giving loads of homework and almost impossible tests, but he was also a friend who joked with us in class and cared about our lives. Respect was a must in his class, and those who crossed Mr. Butler found themselves on the floor listening as he counted out ten push-ups. He wasn't just a math teacher; he was a role model, a father-figure.

 

Due to his passion for teaching and great love of his students, Mr. Butler decided to take a course over the summer so he could teach ten students, including myself, Algebra II Trig in the ninth grade. During this year our friendship blossomed and my true love of math began. All year long we fought over Duke and Carolina, and since I was such a "psycho-fan" he was the first to tease me those few times that UNC lost at football or basketball. I loved Mr. Butler; I loved his class, and from then on math was my favorite subject and my main focus in school. Mr. Butler instilled this love for math as his own love of the subject sparked mine.

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I studied hard because I wanted to make him proud, and he was beaming when his students "showed out," as he put it, on the End-of-Course Tests. As the year came to a close in June, Mr. Butler became depressed. We all held back tears during out last class together, Mr. Butler included. More tears came from the students when tears rolled down his cheeks as he spoke at graduation. Mr. Butler wanted to be sure he prepared us for high school Calculus. He did far more than that.

 

My love for math grew at West Charlotte, but I missed Mr. Butler-his smiles, his hugs, his jokes-everything. He felt the same bond to us that I felt to him, and his attachment to his former students was one of the reasons he transferred to West Charlotte my junior year. Naturally I was overjoyed when Mr. Butler greeted with me with a bear hug the first day of school. Every time I saw him in the hall he would stop, give me a hug, and ask how I was doing. He was proud to know that his kids were at the top of the class. Occasionally I would drop by his room for a chat or some advice. The last day before Christmas break I made one of these visits. After a short conversation we wished each other Merry Christmas and said goodbye. I had no clue those would be my last moments with my friend.

 

After that awful January morning, every one of Mr. Butler's students felt an emptiness. We would never again see that sneaky grin before a pop quiz or those thick glasses and that old red satin Piedmont coaching jacket-we would never again feel his love. It was difficult for me to even think about math for awhile, and I couldn't go to math class without remembering him. On Senior Honors and Awards Day, I was awarded the Mathematics Medal. As I stood onstage to receive the award, tears welled in my eyes. How I wished Mr. Butler could share the moment with me-I loved math because of him-I excelled in math because of him.

 



Example of a Narrative essay on Personal about:

love / relationships

 

Sometimes I really do impress myself with my ability be amazed by life...It seems like some things have never happened to me or I am an alien from some other distant planet. “Human beings” surprise me, make me cry, make me laugh and make me happy.  That Saturday morning, my “alien being” went out the house in desperate search of deserted paths, beautiful trees, the smell of grass, the sounds of the sleepy city and something that would make me smile. Autumn was already in the air and I was thinking about how cruel was the world and how impossible was to be happy in it. It is not that I was broken hearted by I thought that my patience has come to its end. I looked at the blue sky and set at a bench. I was sitting there and thinking about how I want to be another person. Eventually, I realized that my main problem was that I felt that I could not overcome all the “love” obstacles that life made me face. I recalled everything I have read in books about love as well as everything that I have experienced myself.  In the books everything seemed to be much smoother and easier. My main thought was “how people can possibly spend their whole life together?”. A small rain started and made me feel even more stupid: alone in the park, early in the morning, without anyone to be here with me and ready to push away the relationship that was very dear believing that I do not have strength to overcome the obstacles.

The autumn wind made me wake up from my dreams.. I took a deep breath and took a look around. Suddenly I saw two people approaching me... As there was no one else in the park they caught my attention. As they were getting closer I heard them laughing...First, this laugh made me feel irritated as if they have broken my unity with this park and disturbed my thoughts. But all the sudden I noticed the age of these people – they were old. I could not clearly identify the age, but the woman looked as old as my grandmother. She had grey hair, blue eyes with a smile in them, and a smile on her face. She seemed so peaceful, she was in harmony with herself...Her sweater matched her eyes and made her look very fresh. And all the time she was looking at HIM...

-          Jim, I think we should change the park. It’s the same every Saturday. You know how much I love being around people. Why don’t you ever listen to me? Why do I have to say the same things every time? Isn’t it just easy to do what I ask you to?

-          Sus! Hug me..... – that was all he said.

He looked at her, smiled, gave her a hug at this very moment I stopped seeing an old man, but a strong man that knows his wife and how grouchy she can be and nevertheless he loves her!  I thought about those many things they have “survived” together, so many hardships that made them cry, about all the problems that they are experiencing right now and the probability of that fact that one of them will  outlive the other one. And the one that will outlive will think of this life together was the most beautiful and happy period of life.

They left...and I was sitting at my bench shocked and feeling some new special feelings in my heart.  This feeling was hope! This old couple with all the grouching and tons of mistakes behind their backs made me feel that at the end it is happiness that matter. Eventually, all people will get old and die, and what makes the difference is the person you have dedicated your life to. And I made a wish – to wake up one day, being old and to be proud of being together with the person I love, to feel proud of having had enough forces to overcome all the obstacles and fighting for the happiness. I looked at the sky again... the cloud seemed to have the shape of infinity. I thought that it was a sign. A sign that only such dedication can make life infinitely deep and pure. Finally, I knew what to do and I was so glad I went to that park early Saturday morning. We can survive in this world even if we are aliens as long that we have one more alien to share the life with.

 

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