The most memorable day in my life is when I meet my best friend Kyla. I was dating this boy named Quinlynn for about 2 ½ years and we first started dating we went about it all the wrong way. We snuck around and lied to our parents and made really horrible mistakes. Then one day we made the biggest mistake and my parents found out. When my parents found out they told his mother and we all meet at my house and had a discussion about our mistake.
His sister came with them with her boyfriend and her mother and her brother. I had gone to school with Kyla and I always wanted to be friends with her. Before they left Kyla asked my mom about her daycare and if she had any part-time jobs. The next day Kyla came over and was talking to my mom about working for her.
Then about 2 weeks went by and Kyla started we talked just a little bit and I helped her know where everything was at and all the kids names and how to do everything.
The more she worked there the more we talked and noticed how alike we were. My parents liked Kyla so much and trusted her they let me spend the night at her house. On Mondays we went running, Tuesdays and Wednesdays we went to go play volleyball, Thursdays we went and played basketball with her brothers, and on Fridays- Sundays we went to parties, movies, and mall, went out of town, or spent the night over each other house.
I love my best friend we are always talking on the phone and skyping each other and texting. If I would have not got into any trouble I would not have meet my match. That’s my memorable day, the day I meet my best friend Kyla Hawkins.
Memorable Person – Short Story
I am writing my story about a person who I will never forget for rest of my life. This story is about an Englishman who was on the duty for the British army in Pakistan back in 1960s. His name was Paul Henry and he was originally from Bristol in England. He was one of the senior officers who were placed in Pakistan with a specific job to do. He had his own flat in Pakistan and he did not have to share accommodation with other troops in the army camp.
He adopted a child from a family in Pakistan in 1965. The boy he adopted was only 3 years old at that time. His name was Qazi Akhtar, he is now my father. Qazi Akhtar started to live with Paul as an adopted son. Paul raised him and a few years later, when Paul’s duty finished in Pakistan; he brought Akhtar to England for his education. He started to go school in England and went on to become an undergraduate in a University. When his studies finished Paul decided to take him back to Pakistan to visit his original family.
Qazi then got married and he was living with his new wife and step-dad Paul in Pakistan. Paul had decided to take retirement from the army to live with his adopted son and daughter-in-law. After a couple of years Qazi found employment in London, he moved back to England on his own to start work. Paul was then looking after his wife and children in Pakistan. Qazi used to visit his family in Pakistan every 6 months. Paul took up a new occupation in Pakistan and became a teacher. He went onto teach in various colleges and universities in Pakistan.
When Paul got old he decided to give up working and his focus was totally in raising his grand children. I remember spending the first 10 years of my life with him. He was a lovely, caring man. He used to take all of us out for dinner at least once a week and he provided us with everything that we needed.
My granddad Paul looked after my dad’s parents, brothers and sisters as well. He gave them money and all the support he could; as my dad’s original family was poor. We never felt that he was a different person from a foreign country and he was always one of our own family. Paul was one of the leading officers in British army, he was quiet famous in both Pakistan and back in England.
As he got older Paul had health issues when he was in his late 90s he used to be ill and sick quiet often, and had to stay on his bed for last few years of his life. One day he suffered a heart attack and he was put on life support machine for two days in hospital before he passed away on 13th September 2001. I was about 12 years old at the time of his death. His death happened in Pakistan, we all went to his funeral in a Church. That was the saddest day of my life and I was inconsolable. My father was very upset as were all the other family members. He was bought back to England for burial and his grave is in London.
This is how a stranger from a different culture, different country changed the fortunes of a poor child living in a poor family and giving him the best possible education and making him a decent human being. For all he did for me and my family, especially for my father, I will never forget him. He will always live in our memories. He was a special person, that is why my Family and I can never forget him, 8 years on and we still visit his grave regularly.
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