When you hear of someone who went to a highly competitive school, it’s expected that they are still highly competitive in the workforce. My father despite the motivation and skill, has been unable to work since 2006. Being incapable to do what he had been striving for in terms of work and his ability to provide for his family definitely has affected him. Currently my father is able to live at home, and is still mobile. When I was younger his health fluctuated, and there was a point where I rarely saw him outside of a hospital room. A flurry of tubes running from machines to him float through the memories of growing up. There were a solid 2 years when I only saw him asleep in his room with all the lights off, due to daily migraines. The silence seemed …show more content…
I didn’t want the good memories I had of him to be tainted by his sickness. The idea of us being close was unwanted when I was younger, it was precariously walking on a tightrope 100 ft up. It was staying in the path of a tornado, remaining on the beach during a tsunami. I knew I wasn’t prepared and would get hurt. When I thought about my life if he wasn't sick, I’d feel guilty. I was worried that he didn’t feel good enough, that his efforts to be involved him my life were futile. I felt like I shouldn’t get too close, because I knew eventually I would fall off the tightrope, I would get caught up in the tornado, and I would be drowned in the tsunami. By the time I was in 8th grade, my father’s health had improved enough to offer some sort of stability. I discovered how similar we are, and how much of his personality was ingrained in mine. Finally I felt like I could get to know him, and all the effort he put in with the hope of providing support for my family. Although his plans didn’t work out, he still managed to do everything he could to raise us. His efforts weren’t completely lost within the blur of my childhood, and my wanting to know him outweighs my fear of losing
I do not have any memories of my own father as a child. I met him when I was about fourteen years old. My mother and grandmother, with the help of my uncles and aunt, raised me. Although I had strong positive male role models in my life, there was always the void of my father that I dealt with on a daily basis. I can remember at a young age, before blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish that my father would show up to my party. I had elaborate daydreams of him coming back into my life and doing things with me like I saw on television. It never happened. While walking to the train station one evening my uncle casually said to me “there’s your father” as if I saw him on an everyday basis. I didn’t...
Maybe it’s the fact that I tend to stay in my room all weekend, which leads to people thinking I’m studying when in reality I am probably binge watching a TV show or maybe it’s my glasses, but most people who don’t know me too well assume that I am smart. Now that is a great thing for me because I don’t have to try as hard to impress them, but I end up finding myself in a bit of a problem. The problem is that everyone thinks I enjoy admiring school textbooks. But the truth is I’m usually admiring my Justin Bieber poster on my bedroom wall. Ever since I was in sixth grade I’ve been a huge fan of Bieber. His music always brought a feeling of calmness and back in the day his “never say never” motto, was what I lived by. I might still be living by that motto because I’ve decided to write this essay
You might think that transmitting this skill was evidence my father and I had a close relationship, but our bond was distant, ephemeral, and bound together by a single if resilient thread. My parents had divorced when I was a kid, and my father had “visitation rights.” He’d show up at our front door every other Sunday and take me out with him. Our destination might be the zoo, a park, a baseball game or, more usually, his house in Far Rockaway, a half-hour drive from my mother’s place in Brooklyn. But it wasn’t where we ended up that elated me. It was getting there that made it a thrill.
I remember the year my Highschool team went to the state championship. My team the Kansas City Hawks went up against the twelve time champs The St.Louis Kings. What made them twelve time champs was us. Every time my team went to the championship The Kings met us there. All twelve times The King where the victors. January 25,2024 The Hawks were on a warpath for that Championship.
The year was 2005, I was 8 years old, and I had just started my fourth month of third grade. I hadn’t seen my father in a couple of months and, though I constantly asked my mother, I couldn’t for the life of me remember where it was that he had gone to. The only thing that I remember of what my mother said to me when I asked her his whereabouts was that it was, “un lugar muy diferente” (this translates into, “a very different place.”) One day she told me that I was finally going to get to see my father again and I got very excited. There was one catch though, he was not coming back, it was instead we who had to move to where he
A calm crisp breeze circled my body as I sat emerged in my thoughts, hopes, and memories. The rough bark on which I sat reminded me of the rough road many people have traveled, only to end with something no one in human form can contemplate.
I am from the island of Falalop Woleai which is one the outer islands of Yap State. The culture I was born and raised in has slightly changed over the years but our traditions are strongly practiced and respected. Woleaians today still wears traditional attire of loin cloths or “thus” for men and lava lavas for women.
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
Growing up there was always a fraction of my heart absent that I had always wanted to have fulfilled. Not having a father throughout my childhood has put a mild affect on me expressively. In my eyes, having no father for eighteen years meant that it would be too late to ever have one in my life. That emotion came to an end on the day of my high graduation when my biological father showed up on my front porch. I was absolutely stunned and soundless of words. I didn’t recognize him in any way but the reaction that dispersed through my body when I opened that door led me to know that he was my father.
When I was younger I was not so smart and would do questionable stuff all the time. I would jump from boulders to other boulders, climb on top of chairs, and even try killing snakes I would find in our yard. One day I learned a lesson from going on one of my self proclaimed adventures with a good friend.
It all started with a fish, a chair, and a really bad smell of course I am getting ahead of myself and I wouldn’t want to puzzle you (or would I), you see maybe there is no actual fish, what if the chair just smelled really bad, Maybe someone was smelling bad and they sat on the chair and now the chair smells bad. What if there actually was a fish and that’s what smelt bad… so now I was looking around for the fish. I was thinking to myself “gone forever,” just then I felt something squishy in my coat pocket, and I said “Wow would you look at this!” and pulled out some moldy playdough. I think this will taste good so I took a few bites. A it tasted like play dough first I thought it tasted like something I have tasted before but the I felt
One dark, stormy October night me and some friends went trick or treating. Then we saw this abandon house so we decided to go in it well when we did we found out it was haunted. We went in and went up the stairs and one of my friends somehow got tripped and fell down the stairs and almost broke his .leg. Then we heard a voice that said get out or die.
While my parents were away, my grandfather had slipped in the pool and hit his head and drowned. Apparently my father was the one who found him. He tried his best to revive him, but it was to no use. At first I was mad at my parents for leaving him alone; then I was mad at my father for not being able to save him. I had always thought of my father as someone who could fix anything; this was the first time he was not able to fix it. I soon realized that it was not their fault and that they did the best they could.
By taking the time to understand who my father is I was able to find the locations of my characteristics. His actions are the reason to why my determination is revered. My uncle once told me, "JP, I can write a novel about your father!" I never quite grasped what he meant and his words reverberated 17 months later when hearing that my father's best friend had passed away. This episode made me realize the significance of having a father. My father, Luis, ran away from an abusive home at the age of 12 and had commenced his voyage to America. His struggles to feed six households and aspirations to leave the city to live in New Hampshire fills me up with motivational cells. He functions like the discovery of a water-buffalo, works and eats. This man is no ordinary man and I'm not just saying that ... I mean it. He survives from anything and everything he faces. Someone once pointed a gun at his brother
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,