Last winter I almost killed my father. I was arguing with him one morning before school. The strain on our relationship had been building the previous few months as our arguments were becoming more frequent and fierce. They were a little more intense than your average father-son battles. This specific argument ended with my storming out of the house and not returning. That afternoon, I was working out after school and my aunt came by the school weight room and told me my father had gone to the hospital to get some tests done. I was still angry, but nevertheless concerned; if not for him, for my mother and my siblings. I continued to lift before heading home. When I arrived I was told by my family that my dad had suffered a heart attack that morning. He was alive and awake, but the tests revealed that he was very close to death after our argument that morning. He was lucky to have gotten medical attention when he did. He would have to stay in the hospital for the next few nights. The animosity between my father and I was approaching its climax and tensions in our relationship could have begun to ease or intensify. After a few days I visited him at the hospital and it appeared the strain on our relationship would begin a slow release. My father announced he would no longer try to control or restrict me. It was not that I would be allowed to run wild (not that I would), but that it would be up to me to regulate my own behavior and be responsible for my own decisions. He was no longer in any shape to battle with his then-sixteen year old son.
This was my coming of age moment; I was not ready. A year later, though, things are better with my dad and I am more mature, responsible, and self-reflective because of it. For those initial few months after the heart attack I was confused and unsure of my future. I started to thinking about life in the long term and I changed my