Disney Channel: The Little Things

"I felt my heart fall out of my chest and immediately began screaming--good thing Disney Channel never fails to calm a child down."

By Anonymous

*Name changed in story for Privacy reasons

On Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009, I fell asleep on the couch, watching Disney Channel, and my dad died. Four months later, I fell asleep on the couch, watching Disney Channel, and my house burned down. This is not a sob story about how tragedies have shaped my life, but the story of how my resulting apprehension towards watching Disney Channel is partly responsible for my character.

I remember watching the stars with my family every winter on our Wyoming skiing trips, pretending to see the constellations my dad admired, as my mind wandered off about our universe and how small our family of six actually was. Granted, my favorite memories of my dad are more banal, like the nights we spent eating ice cream sundaes from massive cooking bowls, which likely explains my confounding ability to eat half a gallon of ice cream and still want more.

On Tuesday, February 3rd, 2009, my life as I knew it was obliterated: "Emma, wake up," my sister begged in delirium, "Dad is dead." I felt my heart fall out of my chest and immediately began screaming--good thing Disney Channel never fails to calm a child down.

Four months later, I was rudely, but fortunately, awoken by the shattering of a burning lamp onto my lap. I instinctively ran down the winding stairs, alongside a railing of flames, and out of the burning house. This time, Disney Channel would not calm me down because I refused to engage in an activity that once again preceded a traumatizing event.

The impacts of these two nights were hard on my siblings and me, and even harder on my mom. Luckily, I had enough mental stamina to step up my role in my family. By second grade, I had laminated morning and nightly routines, woke myself and my high school siblings up every day, made myself breakfast, packed my lunch, and never stayed awake past my self-set bedtime.

Eventually, my stamina failed. I was in so much internal pain, yet all I could think about was the reality that so many others felt that same agony. Soon after, I firmly decided that my life goal was to make people happy. Even though I had no idea what I was doing, I slowly became the one my friend's relied on: Whether it be a shoulder to cry on during their parents' divorce or a friend to take them on a spontaneous adventure to clear their mind, if I saw someone needed something, I was there. Predictably, but surprising to me as it was never my intent, making others happy was the key to my own happiness.

Last month, I watched my brother marry the love of his life. That night, I noticed that my mom's smile looked different; her eyes were animated. My brother gave a toast to "the one man who couldn't be [there]," the man who laid down his life for his children and blessed them with the precedent for living. My life was not obliterated on February 3rd, 2009; it was transformed. My dad showed me that happiness is impossible to achieve alone. Whether we're stargazing or devouring ice cream, happiness lies in moments of shared euphoria. My life is far from perfect- it's not Disney - it's flawed, but it's beautiful.