In an assignment for my American Autobiography class, I'm supposed to write a five-page Creative Non-Fiction piece (a.k.a. autobiography) of an event that has shaped my life. Against my will, I've decided to write about my grandfather's death almost two years ago. I was hesitant at first to pick that event because a woman writing about the death of a family member felt so overdone. Honestly, I tried to pick another topic, I really did, but this one just kept coming back to me. This is my first-ever foray into creative writing at the college level (I wrote tortured love poems in middle school, but who didn't?), and quite frankly I'm scared. I don't want to mess this up, especially a topic so close to my heart that it's still painful to talk about.
But here I am, poring over the first draft of what I hope will be a meaningful piece to me. When I'm finished, I want to give it to my grandmother. I want her to know that he's just as much a part of my life now as he was back then.
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