Narrative Essay About My Father

How often in life do you meet someone who you take for granted at first and then when that person is gone you see the impact that he/she left on your life? My Father, Jules Ducarmel Pierre-Louis, was born on December 10, 1936 and died October 11, 2011. My Dad was not a loving, caring, cuddly man who put me to bed and rubbed my mother 's back when she was upset. He was a verbally abusive father to my mother and

I but a hero to others.

In second grade, I began seeing a counselor at school since there was an obvious grave dislike for going home in juxtaposition to the giddy children on Friday afternoons. My counselor had told me that if I had ever felt that my father would hurt my mother and me to call the police. At the time, she said this and I did not believe he could ever do such a thing. My father might be mean and crass but to put a hand on us would go against everything he believed in and that would be hatred not love. How could the man who oozed love for God and his words be heartless? I took the advice as any child in distress would but never thinking that these words would change my life. “Can you please

When I got the call the night that he had his stroke, it hurt more than just a broken heart. This pain was not the first heartbreak because that was betrayal. This pain is not fueled by anger and fear. I felt as if any force left in me was sucked out. I felt nothing and yet everything. Tears were fuller, disloyalties were heavier, the muscles around my mouth were reconstructed into a black rainbow, the silence was deafening, and thoughts became deeper. This came from a love I did not know was there anymore, there was a sadness resulting from guilt. Guilt that I had not actually forgiven him. Guilt that I could think of only all these clichés about how unexpectedly my father was being taken away from