An event that not just changed my life, but as well as my father was his journey to sobriety. As a child, I always noticed something different about my dad. His physical appearance showed a man high with a beer in his hand and slurring his words. I knew Inside that this couldn 't be a person,but a lost soul, a person so bitter about the miserable past in which he couldn 't forget.My father 's life began in the Bronx. Boring into an Irish household where his 2 parents were always on the run, food had always was a question if going to be had, and drugs and alcohol were always in sight. With little to no guidance, my father used drugs and alcohol as an escape. When he lost his mother at the age of 10 his drinking becomes more of a routine.Following …show more content…
My mom and dad started fighting 24/7, she would yell " You can 't put us through this anymore." I remember lying in bed, closing my eye and covering my ears, I started to hum to cover up hearing the yelling and crying. My dad ran into my room and with every bone in my body shaking, he grabbed my arm. I could see the tear rolling down his face, which was first. I had never seen him cry before. My dad said " I wanted to give you guys the world and I failed." After that I discovered a feeling of fear towards my dad which I thought that would had been impossible. My dads misery became so overwhelming that alcohol was no longer his preference to deal with his pain, to now advancing to drugs. Watching my dad take his 5th hit of crack in the living room on a spring afternoon. He held my hands with bloodshot eye and dry lips, he said " I want you to know before it is too late, that this world is not a nice place." Being that I was only 10 years old, I didn 't know what that meant. I just kept hoping that my dad would be ok and everything would go back to normal. At the same time I knew that my dad was becoming a person I didn 't know could …show more content…
To be honest, I never picture anything. I just thought that our separation was something to be called permanent. The first sight of my dad, he had a huge smile on his face. He hugged me and I automatically got the feeling of protection, which was a feeling that I hadn 't felt in a long time. Everything about him seemed like the dad I called used to call my best friends. At the same time I felt as if I was holding my breath the whole time, just waiting for something to go wrong. My dad then held my hand and said " Please don 't be afraid anymore." So much time had been lost between us. My dad told me his story from when he was a child and how the demons of his past caught up to him. As much as he told his story, I knew I had to tell mine. 7 years had past and I began to explain that the way I felt was the way no child should ever feel. Abandon, confused about why, and sad about everything at once. I was mainly so hurt that he chose a drug that made him feel happy for 15 minutes, when he could of had a family that would give him that for a lifetime. It was a long time to process, understand, and accept everything that had
Months later, I woke up and walked down stairs to make my oats. I walked downstairs and was looking for my Father. I looked everywhere in the house before I noticed he was no-where to be found. Then I walked into the living room and saw my Mother. She was hysterical. Tears were running down her cheek like the Mississippi flowed into the Gulf of Mexico.
While in jail my dad cut hair when he was there. I would get my hair cut when I went to visit and sit in the visiting room with my dad. When he was lining up my head focusing on the line I could hear him breath deeply. As he is cutting my hair his hands are gently moving my head in better positions for him. For the only time I asked my dad why he was put in jail. He said "I was doing bad things and the bad things I did had consequences that allow me to not be in your life right now."
I remained next to him in silence, listening to his incoherent mumbling and staring at his eye that was almost swollen-shut from falling. This is not how I had intended to start my spring break. I was angry more than anything. Angry at my dad for his actions, angry at myself for failing to stop things before they got this bad. Anger initially overrode the realization that my dad almost died from alcohol poisoning. The following morning my mom and I made it clear that he would no longer be accepted in the family if he didn't go to rehab. My dad had no way out of this. That morning was the best opportunity I had to change things, but combating addiction ultimately comes down to the person with the addiction changing. Seeing him in the hospital was my way of showing him that I still loved him, but at the same time would no longer put up with his
Growing up, my father’s absence played a major factor in my stride for success. His absence was the scapegoat for why I always felt like I may not be good enough – or why I’d be looked at as an outcast. I’ve always made it my first priority to overcome his negligence by attempting to do my best in school – earning good grades, joining school clubs, giving back to the community. However, never did I receive the recognition I’ve always dreamed of and never was I satisfied with my outcome, but never did I think that I would find through the one who seized it all.
One night I was kitchen washing the dishes when all of the sudden my mother walked in and asked me if I have talked to my dad. I had replied that I hadn't heard from him in about a year. The next thing I know the words "Your Grandpa passed away yesterday morning, nobody knows were your dad is and they can't keep his body in the morgue past tomorrow." came from her mouth. I just stood there in shock, I couldn’t do anything. She told me to get ready and that we could drive up to my dads house in Ona. When we got there the windows were broken and covered up with some type of sheet and there was a piece of paper on his door that read "Go away. Just leave me alone...please.". We wrote a note and put it on the door and went home. That night I laid in my bed screaming inside my head and crying my eyes out for over a hour. In the morning I had a huge panic attack. I kept hearing ringing and buzzing noises and I could hardly breathe. It took me about thirty minutes to work up the nerve to come out of my bedroom. I ended up going
This story has many ups and downs, like a roller coaster I was unstable. This man held my hand and made me smile, although I was in denial because my biological father had treated
I was sitting at my small desk in my room when I saw my dad had come home from who knows what, wearing a sad face. He came up to my room with a big red rose. Right then I knew what was going on. I never spent a lot of time with family members who I was not close with. I acknowledged their presence, but I never talked a lot to or about them.
Next week is the five year anniversary of my dads passing. He went to be with the Lord on June 14th. Seven days shy of his birthday. [Dad did everything in seven’s, it was his favorite number.] When this popped up in my Facebook Memories this morning, I started thinking about the many different examples my parents sat for me growing up. Especially the ones my father sat. I spent far more time with my mom, but the time I spent with dad was always special. Dad really did teach by example. I can remember shopping as a family. Kids want to touch everything. Dad always told me to put my hands in my pockets. If I didn’t have pockets, I was to put my arms behind my back and hold my wrist. He made sure he did whatever it was I had to do. He also told
My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.
My first memories of my father were what I now know as active addiction, I would watch the chaos in my house, the abuse, both mental and physical and at the time I didn’t understand but as time went on it was apparent, at the age of 11, my father hung himself, although he did not die he cut off oxygen to his brain long enough to render him blind and incompetent to care for himself and he was place in a nursing home where he would reside for the next 25 years of my life. I swore I would never do drugs because I saw firsthand the destruction, but my family addiction did not stop there. My aunt was a daily drinker, my uncle was addicted to heroin, another aunt addicted to crack
It started when I was a little girl, I think I was about five years old. I grew up in a one parent household, with just my mom. I had three other siblings, two brothers and a sister. My mom was the sole provider of the family. Everything started getting hard for her as we grew. I got curious and asked my mom a question I never asked before. "Mom where is my dad and why isn 't he here to help you take care of us." " Mom said, he was killed when you were a baby." So I never spoke of it again until I had turned about fifteen years of age. I still was curious about what had happened to my father. I started having dreams of my father being around, a man whom i had never seen or meet before. He was just an illusion that I had made up inside my
Even though I clearly remember all the sanity me and my little family went through. I never wanted them to know their mother just up and disappear on them. I took a deep breath and was about ready to tell them the whole truth. They already knew too much. But right before I could speak, I became suddenly unspoken-less. They gave me this look, not a look of sadness, more like a look of pride and honor. They both huddle close to me and gave me a hug. The words that came from their mouths next. I 'll never forget
It was Friday night, I took a shower, and one of my aunts came into the bathroom and told me that my dad was sick but he was going to be ok. She told me that so I did not worry. I finished taking a bath, and I immediately went to my daddy’s house to see what was going on. My dad was throwing-up blood, and he could not breath very well. One of my aunts cried and prayed at the same time. I felt worried because she only does that when something bad is going to happen. More people were trying to help my dad until the doctor came. Everybody cried, and I was confused because I thought it was just a stomachache. I asked one of my older brothers if my dad was going to be ok, but he did not answer my question and push me away. My body shock to see him dying, and I took his hand and told him not to give up. The only thing that I heard from him was, “Daughters go to auntie...
Everyone has that one person in their life has influenced to be who they are. Some weren’t meant to be looked up to, still somehow that person shaped them to be who they are today. It could be anyone, a friend, teacher, most of the time a parent. A parent that has influenced their child would be a hard parent, who disciplined and showed the real world to their kid, for what it really is. In hopes that their kid will survive the real world and pass on their knowledge to their kids and their children and so on.
An Event which changed my life, well when, I think back on my life there’s