I Lost My Father To Heart Disease

I lost my father to heart disease in 2001. Although I have no recollection of that year, as I was only one year old, this event haunted my life ever since. My mother and I moved to America in 2005 to unite with my father’s family with the promise of a better life. From that point, I can refer to my life as a coin. One side being scratched and grey and other being shiny and detailed. Throughout my split childhood, I lacked a father figure to look up to and guide me in life. Fortunately, I had my aunts, uncles, and grandparents in America, who took up this role and guided me. They made sure to educate, discipline, and provide me with a childhood that was well spent and full of enjoyment. From them, I was taught to be persistent and confident. They implanted the belief that I can pursue any career in life. They have been the foremost influence and guidance in my life. They are the map when I am lost, and they pushed me when I am stuck.

After moving, it felt like it was my mother and me against the world. It had always felt like that ever since. We were always on the line of poverty. My mother was only able to obtain low paying jobs because of her poor English. This language barrier and early lack of education trap her in a circulation of low-paying, unskilled, and physically demanding jobs. I didn’t see my Mom very often, for she repeatedly worked from 5 AM to 8 PM to provide income for us. I specifically remember the days when my mother would come back home exhausted with relentless stomach pains, but yet she still puts a smile on her face and does the best she can to support me and provide me with the education that I need for a successful life. She works so hard to put food on the table and a roof over our