Personal Narrative A Child's Influence

There comes a time in everyone’s life when they have a moment of clarity. Be it something positive or negative, something always makes your life very clear to you. My Godson was that (five year long) moment for me. All of his ups and downs, his falls and stands, his birth and untimely death. Every cut, scrape and bruise life gave us both. All of these parts of my little boy made me the person, and therefore the writer, I am today. When I was a young boy of 12, I had very few friends. Sage and Johnny were two of my oldest friends. They were a few years older than me and were basically engaged to be married from the day they met. We went to the same school for a few years and never lost contact whenever I moved. We were hanging out one day and they told me that Sage was pregnant and asked if I would be their child’s Godfather. I was more than ecstatic to agree; I was going to be able to help in the rearing of another human life. This was weird for me; I had never thought about children before and definitely didn’t think I was ready for one of my own. A few weeks after his birth, little Brooklynn was delivered to my doorstep with a letter explaining that his parents were killed in a car crash. My Godson became my son that day. This little blanket wrapped, human burrito was now my responsibility. Over the next five years, being a father taught me more about myself than anyone had ever shown me; the joys of parenthood. He grew into a fine looking young boy. Dark brown hair, ocean blue eyes with Everest green accents, tanned skin like his mother, brilliant white smile with a missing front tooth and he was surprisingly tall for a five year old boy (4’6”). We laughed, we cried. We played, we fought. I tried to give him the best life I could; a life his parents would’ve given him.
Once I enrolled at Sierra College, Brooklynn went to live with his grandparents, in Florida, for the semester. We e-mailed everyday. Well, his grandmother e-mailed me his responses word