Pleasing my father became nearly impossible, consequently, my mother tried all she could to do that. Describing my father as a monster when he became mad could be considered an understatement, which gave cause for the incredible concern to my grandfather, for how my mother would be treated. Even though his is temper had been out of control too often, she loved him, so she kept trying to keep the marriage together. During the first month of my parent’s marriage, my mother had severe back pain, and found her self doubled over for a week. Finally, her boss, and coworkers told her to hightail it to the doctor to get the pain checked out. When she finally did, she found out she had an exceedingly awful kidney infection. The doctor told her to stop …show more content…
You are making this up so you won’t have to have sex with me!!” A month after this happened my grandmother Emma called my mother at her office, and said she didn’t need to pick up my father after work due to he had already called my grandmother to have her pick him up for he had gotten himself fired by his family. As soon as my mother arrived at home, my father, he told her all about how his family fired him, then he said “Elizabeth, my buddies, and I are going to the mountains to rock climb to help me get over it.” Still such young newlyweds, and wanting to be considered a wonderful wife, he didn’t seem to see, she didn’t mention it to my father how upset she felt he would get fired, and then up, and leave on a fun trip with his buddies. While left at home, my father’s brother Wade came over to pick up something out of my parents garage. My mother stayed inside the house, and didn’t traipse out, and talk to him for the sake of she thought he fired her husband. After Wade left he called my mother to find out why she wasn’t her usual friendly self. She then told him “ I can not believe you fired Liam.” He asked her “Can we have a family meeting in as much as we did not fire Liam, he quit!” My mother soon found out he had …show more content…
She had always dreamed of being a mother, and taking care of her own babies instead of working. She did not want to ever see his rotten temper, especially when her children would be born. Yet, eight months into my mother’s pregnancy with me, driving back from the doctor’s office, my father began driving awfully fast in traffic, and she asked him to please slow down. He became mad, and told her she could climb out of the car. Three months after moving in, two months after leaving her job, and two weeks after my due date, my mother went to her doctors appointment. The doctor sent my mother home, once again to wait for her baby to finally make it’s appearance into the world, late as can be. My parents decided to venture out to eat. My mother being hungry, and in pain, didn’t feel like cooking. She said she ate more than usual. My mother started having excruciating back pain, and discomfort. Late into the night they went to the hospital, where the next morning, my mother says she received the greatest gift of her life. The doctor placed me, her beautiful dark haired, baby girl, in her arms. They named me Elsie. To my mother, I was the first feeling of true love she had ever felt. My father worked for his father, my grandfather Wesley at Taylor, and sons. He started the business a few years earlier, so his sons could have an income when older. The business
“Tricky business, fathers and sons. In my case, a lot needed settling,” (7) acknowledges author Craig Lesley in his personal narrative Burning Fence: A Memoir of Fatherhood. This book delves into relationships between fathers and their sons. The introspective writer employs flash-forwards and flashbacks, effectively keeping the reader enrapt and drawing connections between the generations of Lesleys. Near the end of the book, the writer inserts effective concluding thoughts he holds towards his father. While the memoir displays an unhealthy view of unforgiveness, it portrays the importance of a father figure in a child’s life.
I walked into the room on New Year’s Day and felt a sudden twinge of fear. My eyes already hurt from the tears I had shed and those tears would not stop even then the last viewing before we had to leave. She lay quietly on the bed with her face as void of emotion as a sheet of paper without the writing. Slowly, I approached the cold lifeless form that was once my mother and gave her a goodbye kiss.
The year was 1952; the place was Emory University Hospital in Atlanta Georgia. After 35 hours of breathing, pushing and exhaustion a seven-pound baby is placed into the arms of a new mother. Moments before, the doctor had exclaimed, “ It’s a girl!” The second the mother heard the proclamation her mind began to wonder. Who will she be? Will she be smart? Will she be gentle? Will she be strong? Will she be proper? Will she be liked? Will she be beautiful? Will she be a wife? Will she be a mother? The mother looked into the eyes of her new daughter and felt, amidst the overwhelming joy, fear. Would her baby’s cohort be the one to spur on change? Will her opportunities forever be limited by her sex? Will she too be susceptible to everyday health issues that women endure? The mother took a breath, “ Her name is Emma.” She looked back into the eyes of the baby and thought; her life will be fraught with challenge and beauty. She will take it in stride and I will guide her as best I can. She will be a woman like any other but she will make a difference, no matter how small, in this world.
I gazed into his bluish-green eyes while crying tears of joy. I could not believe that something so beautiful had grown inside of me. With a new found independence, I finally found happiness. In school my grades improved, my attitude was positive, and I figured out that my career choice was going to be to pursue a doctorate in pharmacy. My son has inspired me to excel in everything that I do. With him now being 3 years old, I have accomplished more with him than I would have without him. I have learned that sometimes we face obstacles in life that seem too much to bear. In comparison to Kincaid’s short story the tough love from my mom molded me to be the woman that I am today. Some might say that the mother in Kincaid’s story was too assertive, but I feel that the mother was only trying to give her daughter the tools in life that she
Now that I am in the counseling program I have become aware of the dysfunctional family that I have grew up in. Growing up I remember my father was never around. There is a memory I will never forget it seems blurry but I remember my parents arguing and becoming angry. I went into a room and when I came out I saw my father’s hand bleeding. My mother was holding a kitchen knife and she had cut his hand. Since my father was hardly around we never had family trips or family time together. He would spend his weekends drinking or going out with his friends. I have another memory that stands out. I remember I was in the back seat of the car and my mom was dropping of my dad somewhere. They were arguing the whole way over there, once we got to the destination my dad got off and walked out. I can imagine this affected my mother as a woman because her needs were not being
Nancy was only four years old when her grandmother died. Her grandmother had a big lump on the lower right hand side of her back. The doctors removed it, but it was too late. The tumor had already spread throughout her body. Instead of having a lump on her back, she had a long stitched up incision there. She couldn’t move around; Nancy’s parents had to help her go to the bathroom and do all the simple things that she use to do all by herself. Nancy would ask her grandmother to get up to take her younger sister, Linh, and herself outside so they could play. She never got up. A couple of months later, an ambulance came by their house and took their grandmother away. That was the last time Nancy ever saw her alive. She was in the hospital for about a week and a half. Nancy’s parents never took them to see her. One day, Nancy saw her parents crying and she have never seen them cry before. They dropped Linh and her off at one of their friend’s house. Nancy got mad because she thought they were going shopping and didn’t take her with them.
Our dad had died of a heart attack. Even though they were divorced at the time of his death I could tell it had hit her hard. After she told us it was as if a shield she’d been holding had crumbled and she had cried with us at her side. Now our mom was to fully take on the role of a single mother of two young children, not to mention our older siblings she still had to worry about with the oldest still in college and the other moving across the country. When I look back to these days after his death I begin to notice things my mom did for us that I mightn’t have even blinked at then. I didn’t realize yet just how much she did and is doing. After that I really looked closely at all that she does and decided my mom truly is my personal Michigan hero.
As the youngest of five children she was often overlooked. The pride of the family often overrode the opportunity to receive health care, handouts and a decent chance to become something. My mother spent her childhood in a tiny house with her family and many relatives. She was never given the opportunities to excel in learning and life like my generation has. My grandfather was a carpenter and on that living fed many hungry mouths. But despite this already unfortunate lifestyle my mother maintained good grades and was on a path to overcoming her misfortune.
Finally, she made it home. “Sorry I am late I got held at work.” She said. My mother ran her own clock which was always behind schedule. She thanked her six children for that. My mother always wanted a big family so had six children which the first three were from her previous marriage. She later divorced and remarried then had three more children. That afternoon I noticed she struggled to get off her enormous truck. It was probably her physical rounder body frame or working a double shift that made her incapable to get off her vehicle quickly. I’m sure being a nurse is hard work physically and mental. As she walked towards me I admired her style, her normal hair up in a bun and her unmatched scrubs. She wore a red mickey mouse top and some lime green pants. She didn’t mind others opinion because for her there were far greater things in life. As she got near me she hugged and
When my father blew up at my mother we were all expecting him to. The argument of "I want steak" and "I was working all day" was common in our family. I immediately took my mother's side like I usually did because no one in our family appreciates or respects what she does. My father would later grow to regret what he said and apologize. Tonight was different though. My mother usually took my father's comments in stride knowing he really does not mean what he says. But, this time they both exploded at each other and my mother ended up running out of the kitchen upset, retiring to her room.
One person that I care for very deeply is my dad. He is The reasons he means so much to me is because he helps me whenever I need help, plays sports with me, and he is just like one of my friends.
One beautiful day that summer, I was playing outside with my friends when my mom called for me to come home. I did not want to abandon my guard post at the neighbor's tree house so I decided to disregard her order. I figured that my parents would understand my delima and wouldn't mind if I stayed out for another two or three hours. Unfortunately, they had neglected to inform me that my grandparents had driven in from North Carolina, and we were supposed to go out for a nice dinner. When I finally returned, my father was furious. I had kept them from going to dinner, and he was simply not happy with me. "Go up to your room and don't even think about coming downstairs until I talk to you."
It was on a Friday morning at 4:30 A.M. that happiness and joy filled the hearts of both my parents. I was born on November 29, 1996 at Broward General Hospital in Fort Lauderdale Florida. My parents had five children, and among the five children that they had, I was the third (or middle) child from them. It started off as two boys, then I came along as the first girl, after it was another boy, then finally, another baby girl; so total was three boys and two girls. The way that my parents lived and treated each other was the same as if any other married couple that loved each other so much. They’ve gone through a lot to get to where they are now today, but they made it and along the way had us five children. They have been really strong with each other which made them only have the five of us and no other step children. My mom is a great cook and enjoy cooking for us; this is probably where my passion for culinary comes from. My dad is an amazing tailor, he is very good at making our clothes, and my passion for fashion probably came from him. My dad is also a teacher, one of the best math teacher I know, he is passionate about his job and his family is the center of his universe. I cannot finish this chapter without mentioning my grandmother, I was lucky enough to have ever met. I had spent part of my life time with her, like the rest of the family she is sweet, my grandmother Abelus,
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...