Time may heal, but loss can never truly be repaired. When someone you love becomes a memory, that memory becomes your buried treasure. I have experienced two great losses in my young life, and both have led to profound effects on my future. One was my twin sister and one was my maternal grandmother. Twins begin their lives as one soul separated into different bodies, united by birth. Sadly, in my world, that was not the case. The news that they were having twins came as quite a shock to my parents. I had one sibling already, and my parents quickly had to adjust to the news of becoming a family of five. It was at around 19 weeks that my mother began to have signs of a problem. She was given an ultrasound, and it was at that time that doctors began to notice something not right. Baby B, my sister, was noticeably not the size she should be. My mother was put on best rest and weeks later doctors determined my sister had stopped developing entirely. The diagnosis was VTS or vanishing twin syndrome. Vanishing twin syndrome is a miscarriage that causes a pregnancy involving twins to become a pregnancy of one baby. It cannot be treated, nor prevented. Because fetal death occurred so late in the second trimester, my mother’s pregnancy was labeled extremely high-risk. My parents were counseled before my birth because they were told if I survived, twin loss in the womb can be extremely difficult for the surviving twin. It can create a deep sense of aloneness, fear of abandonment, a struggle with survivor guilt, feeling different from others, a preoccupation with death, and at times feeling like they have two sides to their personality. I came into this world with minimal health issues, however, my parents quickly began to notice that I was not a “normal” toddler per se. While motor functions were ahead of schedule, as I walked at 9 months, my parents could tell there was still something not right. I was not attempting to communicate at all. At around the age of two, I was sent for testing to see if there was a possibility that I was deaf or if I was tongue-tied. Both instances were not the case. I was sent for therapy at a well-renowned children’s hospital near my hometown. After many years of intensive therapy, it was determined by a panel of amazing doctors that I would have been considered the “less dominant” twin had my sister survived, and my struggle was internal with my own emotions. My lack of connecting and speaking was determined to be psychological, and not a physical ailment at all. Growing up, I felt different from my peers, as I was extremely reserved and I always struggled to fit in. Life is hard when you feel like an outcast because no one understands feeling like a part of your existence is missing. I threw myself into my studies and volunteer work in the hopes that I would find different people I could connect with. I then had the added weight of losing my very best friend, my maternal grandmother, to Stage 4 ovarian cancer. I watched as she battled for her life, and I watched as this horrendous disease consumed her. I sunk into a deep depression, which resulted in many thoughts and one attempt, of ending my own life. I still had not found the path that was right for me so I sought out help from my parents, school, and community. With the help of a wonderful counselor, I was determined to fight for the life I deserved. I would no longer feel pity for myself and wonder why I had to go through so much when I was so young. The memory of my grandmother's determination and strong will inspired me to channel both of my greatest losses into my greatest achievement. As that lightbulb clicked on in my brain, I vowed that I would help others like my sister and my grandmother, and I’ve never strayed from that. I will be furthering my education by obtaining a degree in Biochemistry and molecular biology from the University of Mount Union, so that I may work in a lab to research medical anomalies and diseases. I will devote my life to research that will help our current and future society, and I will fight to develop treatments and cures to try to prevent loss for others. My grandmother's favorite song was “I Hope You Dance”, and she always quoted her favorite lines to me. She told me never take the path of least resistance and never take one single breath for granted, and in her honor, I never will. Thank you so much for considering me for your scholarship.

I’ve been told many times when playing golf that missed hits are just practice swings. I was not young when I finally began to take up golfing, and it did not come easy for me. I played many other sports, some as early as 3 years old, but golf certainly was the most challenging for me. Sure, I had played on putt putt courses countless times growing up, as it was an activity my parents and grandparents enjoyed with me as a family. But it was on an actual 18 hole course that I began to learn what patience and discipline actually meant. It’s far easier with a poor hit to just want to throw the club, which I saw a few men do here and there, and less easy to focus on form and follow through and wait for that perfect hit. I began to play golf out of the need to find some peace in my life and create an outlet for my grief. My maternal grandmother had been diagnosed with Stage 4 ovarian cancer, and after years of her courageous battle, she eventually passed, at the young age of 60. My grandmother and I were extremely close and she was a tremendous influence in my life. I struggled mentally after her passing, and after considering taking my own life to end the pain, I decided to forge a new path in my life. I focused more of my time into volunteer work and poured my heart into finding something that would allow me to clear my mind and begin to ease my sadness. That’s when I found golf. Though I will never be league worthy or win any awards, I found a wonderful peace being outside with my own thoughts. There I gave much thought to a promise I made to my grandmother and it is a promise I intend to keep. In the fall, I will be attending The University of Mount Union for biochemistry, specializing in viral science, so that I may obtain a career in a research lab. I intend to find better treatments and cures for diseases, such as cancer and many others, that at the present time do not have one. It is my intention to give back to our society and make a true difference in this world. In a lab, much like in my golf swing, it will take extreme patience to find just the right combination that creates a success story. In every sport I play, my education, my career path, and in my life in general: failure is not a word in my vocabulary, I may just find a million ways that do not work. "The most certain way to succeed is always to try just one more time." —Thomas Edison.