Broken And A Broken Heart

There are many times when a person comes into your life and changes it for the better. I was happened to be blessed to be born with that person that changed my life, my dad. He has always been there and guided me in the correct way. Just like in Sedaris “Me Talk Pretty One Day”, how something negative leads to a good outcome, my negative event resulted on how dads’ actions impacted my life in such a significant way. (635). My dad became a great example for me to look up to, by showing me how dependable, adaptive, and hardworking he truly is. My dad gave me the ambition, to continue my education, and become a dependable mother for my daughters and family.

Every Father plays a symbolic role in another child’s life, he can always be there for you and provide you with what you need and sometimes what you want. A father can be there for you to teach you the rights and the wrongs in life, even though sometimes you don’t want to believe he’s right. A father can teach you how to become a man and teach you to become an athlete if you choose to be one, he will teach you self-discipline and do everything in his power to make sure you will be successful in what you want to do. Some people, unfortunately do not have a father who can do all of these things for whatever the reason may be. Luckily I was blessed with a father who could do all these things and end up becoming my biggest influence in life and the game of baseball.

I am a 14 year old girl who needs to have their father. When I hear that I immediately think about the father I wish that I had. If you mean mine, does that mean the one who abused me and blamed me and my innocent mother for his drinking and smoking problem? I knew that my mom had made the right choice because 4 months later, he told me that he was moving to Arkansas to get away from me because I was not his first priority anymore. Wow. That shot me down. Thank God I have my mother. I wouldn’t be where I am without her. She comforted me, and told me that what he said was not true. That I am a wonderful person who is beautiful, kind and has a big heart. I needed that in the moment for

It was back sometime in the summer of 2004 when my life would be uprooted and changed. The day we left, my dad sat me in his bedroom and said he would always be my dad, and that he loved me. My mom had packed all our things in her little white Nissan that worked only half the time, and we made the trek to our new home. The ride was long, and my brother being only three years old was not too happy about that. When we got to the house, the shudders were black and the drive-way was unpaved. In the front yard stood a man I had never seen before. His beer gut was small but obvious enough, what little hair he had left poked out of his trucker hat. His face had

"DADDY!!!" My chest was heaving and my cheeks burned from being scraped raw by my salty tears. My dad killed himself when I was 6 years old. Side effects of his medication. He took multiple pills everyday and everyday he lost another piece of himself. I miss my dad. He was such a good father to us and an amazing husband. He was everything you could ever want in s father. He had brown eyes like me, dark brown hair like Judith, he was tall, and his smile could light up a whole building on its own. He was such an optimistic and easy going man and everyone loved him. But like all of us he had his demons and sadly they

My father wasn’t a good man when we knew him. He was violent, and to be honest, a drunken bum. I was around 3 when he started getting really bad. He’d come home intoxicated, and start yelling at my mother about stupid things, like dinner not being warm for him. And every so often, I would have the misfortune of seeing him hit my mother. He had his days though. For some occasions, my mother would do something to get him to sober up. Most of the time it was for Maggie or my birthdays, but there were rare occasions where he’d be home, sober, and sweet to us for some reason.

When a child loses a parent their world is turned upside down. Childhood grief is such a painful experience, yet it often goes underestimated because as children grow most physicians, educators or clergy are unable to recognize the signs of depression, loneliness or isolation in grieving children. Statistics show that one in nine Americans lose a parent before the age of 20 (Zaslow, 2012). Death of either parent is devastating, but the death of a father leaves children wondering who will take care of them. Fathers are seen as the protectors in our society, they are the ones who provide the money and stability for a family. Not only that, but fathers are the spiritual head of the family and when that disappears the dynamics change.

She told me she'd be back for me. I remember her calling me saying she's coming for me, but she never showed up. It was heartbreaking as a child, growing up without parents in my daily life. I never got the embarrassment parents are supposed to do, or the protectiveness from my dad. I would cry myself to sleep at night just wishing I had them both back. It's been 10 years, I've grown up. I'm so mature and smart. It's really sad that I can keep a job but my own mother can't. I've tried reconnecting with her, it's a slow process but it's going good. I can't do anything about my father though, he's a lost cause. Life is a bag of shit sometimes but you just gotta ignore it and move on. I've fucked up a lot, I wish some things I could take back but then I wouldn't be who I am now. I carry a lot of emotional baggage with me, A list of past histories, and A tragic backstory. I've had my heart broken more than once, and I've been used more than I can remember. I just hope that this relationship I'm in now last a fucking long time, because holy hell this guy, I pretty much worship him. He's everything to me. He's the type who doesn't complicate my life, he makes it easier to life

Dad and I grew apart after that. We just drowned in our sorrows, too far away to help each other up. And just two months after Mom’s death, Dad went. “Suicide” they called it. It was murder. No matter how desperate or depressed he was, Dad would never kill himself. He wouldn’t leave his only child behind, letting them slowly die by themselves from the pain. Dad would never.

Every child looks up to their father. A father is supposed to be the first man his daughter ever loves. The first hero his son ever has. A man the kids can look up to and always have for support. When kids are young they don't know right from wrong, they learn that based on the actions of others. They base how they act on those they look up to. Inconstancy can cause for major heartbreak, that cant always be fixed.

Growing up I dreamed of my first daddy/ daughter dance at school, walking at graduation and seeing my father stand up and yell out “that’s my daughter!”, having my father walk me down the aisle on my wedding day and countless other things. Ever since I was about 6 years old I have had a question on my mind, who could my father be and how can I be sure? The man who I used to call my father, Dan, put that question in my head when one day he said to me, “you have no right to call me dad because I am not on your birth certificate and I never will be because I am not your father.” That day was the day that changed everything for me. I knew I wouldn’t have someone to do those things for or with me. Knowing I wouldn’t have someone there to be proud of me I began to push myself to be a better person and to be successful to make myself proud, but the question never went away.

After the snap of my father I knew I could no longer trust him. My father was like a wild animal, calm and graceful from a distance, but when he snapped, there was no turning back. I have no idea what my father is capable of, and I don’t want to know. Fathers cannot be trusted when growing up because of the impact they have on such a young innocent white soul. Trust is like a dam, once it’s broken it is impossible to stop the gushing of uncertainty and lies. I am afraid of the things fathers can get away with. Nobody can trust a father: fathers get drunk too much, fathers yell too much, fathers are liars. Upon my release, I left daddy’s little girl, alone, sitting in the white laundry basket, crying--where she still is today. Emerging a warrior, my skin became my armor and my bones became my support system. Never again will I let my father step on the toes of innocence. I

My father has always been my crutch. He’s always been there to support me when I felt broken, constantly apologizing for something he can’t control. When I felt unwanted and abandoned and constantly asking myself what I did wrong for her to not want to stay and asking what was wrong with myself every time the door slammed shut. My father was there picking up the pieces, and patting my back trying to pacify me. How he sat me on the counter and poured peroxide on my knees in order to clean out the leftover rocks and blood after I tried to race down the steps after her and fell while trying to drag her back causing the rocks to bite into my skin. She left without looking back.

This definition can be so clear yet so vague. On one hand, it tells you exactly what a father is. On another, a father is supposed to be so much more than “a man in relation to his natural child or children.” A father should love and care for his children not only when they’re going through hard times, but always. Regardless of what you say, actions speak louder than words. If I were to ask my father a few months ago if he loved me he’d say yes. And to that I’d say “your actions are telling me otherwise.” A few months after my mom died there were some problems going on at my sister’s school. Come to find out, our “father”, who hadn’t tried to contact us since before our mom died had gone and changed all of her school information and was going to pick her up without informing anyone. So when we got to the school, we were in shock. Being that he is the “father” the school let her over to him. My older sister and I ended up going as well, so she wouldn’t be alone. The day we got there it was terrible. I had gotten my tooth taken out earlier that day and I was in excruciating pain and needed to get my prescription which couldn’t be done until the next day, also my little sister needed food for lunch but all he had was $12 which he was going to use for gas. Throughout the next month or two he kept proving that he couldn’t take care of us. We eventually went back with my grandmother and shortly after he’d gotten

I grew up without my dad around. My dad lived here in Southern California. Since I can remember my dad had been living here in the United States working. He would go back to visit us once or twice a year. I didn’t care much about him to be honest. He was never there when I needed a male role model. I was a lot closer to my grandpa and uncles than I was with him. After years and years of going back and forth my dad wanted us all to move to California with him, myself my mom, my brother Oscar and my sister Ana. He was tired of going back and forth and plus he didn’t get along too well with my moms side of the family. I loved my life back home. I wasn’t ready to leave everything behind to go to a different country with a man that I only would