Beauty and the 'Stub' (Paper 1)

Angelica C. Casas

Micah Robbins

ENG1310.126

1 September 2007

Word count: 690

Beauty and the ‘Stub’

“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to mourn the tragic death of a spirited young man. . .” Funerals are horrible. The worst ones of all, though, are the ones where you know that if that person had a little more time, he or she would’ve changed the world. Tears begin to fill my eyes, the priest’s voice begins to turn into an ambiguous murmur, and I start to reminisce on how I first met this astounding man.
“And now I’d like to introduce another speaker who’ll introduce to you the category of mock trial, Mr. Aaron Gonzales.” There’s some applauding, some moaning, and, as I look around the room, all I see is faces of other 9th grade students just as bored and sluggish as I am. We had been listening to speeches all day about how this National Hispanic Institute will help us in the long run, and all the components that go along with it. As I continue to look around, I can practically read the minds of the peers around me: “Whoo another exciting speech,” we all sarcastically think. The young man begins to speak and get comfortable. “Hello, I’m Aaron. I’ve been in the program four years. I can tell I’m going to like this group, so ya’ll can call me ‘Stubs’,” he said with a grin. Just then he took off his suit jacket and, for a moment, the room was in complete silence. He kept talking just as confident and articulate as before, acting as if he didn’t notice the outburst of whispers and concerned faces. You see, Stubs has only one arm. Well, technically one and a half! He was in a horrible car accident when he was twelve and was forced to have his arm amputated.
For the next two years, Aaron and I were inseparable. I was a young naïve freshman, and he helped guide me in most major aspects of my life. He was my hero, my best friend, and the most beautiful person I’ve ever known. Not only was he wise way beyond his years, but his determination was endless. He had always loved music, but after the accident he stopped playing. When I met him, he was then seventeen; he had mastered the piano, drums, and trumpet! He was constantly bursting with advice; “Always keep your head up, kid” or “Strive for the best, it’s what you deserve” were guidelines he continuously gave. Stubs expanded my views in many ways. He never imposed on me what he believed but always showed me there were different thoughts out there. His way of life and character is what defines beauty.
“Mija! Mija! Angelica, it’s over.” Suddenly, I’m shaken awake from my memories, and reality rushed to greet me. The mass was over. Now it was time for me to go see him for the last time. I walked up to the casket to see him laying there. He looked so handsome. His suit jacket was off, and his white button up was rolled up at the sleeves to his elbows, just like it always was at our mock trial meetings. His tattoos, always a “form of expression,” were showing, his pride and personality glowing within them.
Being forced to cope with the death of one of my best friends has been one of the most difficult things I’ve ever had to bear, but knowing that people like him exist is the most beautiful thing in this world. He had a way of inspiring people, not just through his story and hardships, but through his enthusiasm and love of life. People who could give up and become bitter, but instead embrace life and use their life to inspire others are truly beautiful.