I went to my uncle's memorial service on Thursday. I wasn't sure that I really wanted to go - or that I was ready for my entrance back into society. But my dad told me that I needed to stand up to my fears, face people with truth and honesty and be brave. Also, it was a memorial service. I figured that if there was any place that I could go to continue feeling sad and vulnerable, this would be an ideal venue. Up until this point, I was having a hard time speaking ten words without choking up, so when I saw that "Amazing Grace" was the first song on the program I felt doom. But the service was nice. It was short and simple. A loving recognition of an admirable husband, father, and friend. There was one passage from "Tuesday's With Morrie" that made me glad I brought Kleenex. But who doesn't start crying when you read anything from that book?
Guess what? Life is not all about the MCAT and medical school. After I got my scores I was consumed with disappointment, confusion, and fear; at that moment it felt as though those results were the only thing that mattered. When my uncle's friends spoke about Kirk's life, they didn't talk about the tests that he took. They remembered the sports that he played, the trips that he took, and the relationships that he had. Yes, my uncle was an admired teacher, and of course, this was an enormous part of his life. But it wasn't everything.
While we were eating lunch, my father shockingly piped up and said "You know what? I miss my dad a lot." My father has always been on the quiet side and it is rare that he shares raw feelings, so I was intrigued. He explained how proud my grandfather would be of all of the hobbies my mother and father have recently shared...and yes...tandem biking is close to number one on that list. He continued by telling a story about a fishing trip that he and my grandfather had taken. They fished all day without a single bite. As they were driving to their next location, the van - now remembered as "the wreck" tipped over the side of a hill resulting in 25 stitches in my grandfather's head. Nevertheless, the fearless duo continued with the trip. They sat all day in pouring rain (please try to picture my grandfather's head wrapped in ace bandage...kind of like a turban topped with a fishing hat) until finally they caught their first fish.
When I go to medical school and when I become a doctor, I don't want that to define me. Don't get me wrong - while standardized tests may not be my thing, I do plan on dominating in medical school. I know that I can and want to do that. I know that I want to be a talented, knowledgeable, caring, and altruistic physician. This will be a huge part of my life. But I also know that I am capable of more. I want to keep running, I want to play tennis, I want to hike, travel, and be outside. I want to to be the best daughter, sister, and friend, that I can be. I know that it will be hard. I know that medical school will be one of my life's greatest challenges and when the time comes I will embrace that. However, when I am remembered, I want to be remembered as someone who took on, excelled in, and lived the many roles that makes me and my life complete.
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