Childhood Memories of My Father

and for a while I just looked at the family picture on my dad’s nightstand. The photo was taken from our trip to Hawaii at a luau, my mom and I were wearing color coordinated dresses and my dad dressed up with a smile plastered on our faces in the photo because that was a day I would never forget. While looking at the photo I was thinking what was wrong this time because we frequently had to go to the hospital for my mom and I responded,

My earliest memory of my childhood has to be the first major fight my parents had that has been seared into the memories of my childhood. We all hate to see our parents fight and usually when I would witness my parents fight I would block it out because “mommy and daddy will always love each other no matter what.” They would tell me that over and over again no matter how bad their fights got. I yearn so badly to tell my younger self not to hang on to that idea of love because that idea in the end wasn’t really love at all.

On Halloween 2006 while most children were getting ready to go trick or treating, I wasn’t. I was sitting in Lancaster General Hospital waiting room confused on what just happened. I have never wanted to see my father more than I did in that moment. I can remember the day like it was yesterday; there are so many details I can remember that I can’t believe that I can remember. The nurse finally allowed for to see my father for what would seem like 3 seconds. I walked in and scanned the room. My father’s father arms folded looking down trying not to cry. My grandma and grandpa standing at the end of the bed, faces red, soaked with tears. My mom sitting next to him welcoming me into her arms. The look on her face when I walked into the room is still drilled in my head. Her eyes were puffy, her smile she was trying to comfort me with was just not her usual smile. The vibe in the room was depressing, dismal, and heartbroken. As I sat down on her lap, my father manage to muscle up the energy to say hi to me. When I flash back to this moment, I remember him looking pale, almost dead. He was hooked up to what seemed like a million of tubes, and his neck held together by a collar. I was so confused on what had happen. Later, I came to

On June 8th, 1990 is when I entered this place that we call Earth. Born to Montasser and Nagla Hassan, the only girl and the youngest with two older brothers, nine and seven years apart. My parents were born and raised in Cairo, Egypt, and moved to America after getting married, leaving their families behind to better their future and the lives of their future off springs. Their courage and dedication to life and each other is a characteristic that they carried on throughout their journey of careers, life, love, and children.

The haunting melodies of evening prayer soon began to drift across space and time from the many mosques just beyond the hills. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, reliving the moments that got me to this place. I was halfway across the world, alone in my thoughts, and in a land that once seemed so distant. The sound of water rained from the shower and the music of religion wafted through the air as the sun began to let out its final gasp. For the first time all day I was alone—seemingly at peace.

I walked off the school bus; it was a beautiful summer day. The sun was shining and the birds were singing, but inside my house it was dark, a cloud had moved over us. I slowly made my way to the door, expecting my mother to greet me but instead my sister opened the door, something was wrong, I knew instantly. When I walked in there sat my three year old little brother playing with his toys in the family room and my parents were sitting on the couch. I looked up at my mom, she had been crying. What is wrong I asked? He is sick my mom said, “Your baby brother is very sick”. I just shrugged my shoulders and walked away, I had been sick before and I got better, so would he.

One day, on a crisp summer evening, my two brothers had visited from sebring.My mother had told us to sit down on the couch and thats what we did. I knew something was wrong when my brothers looked at me worriedly...Logan started crying and I got really worried, then my mom began with the words “Olivia, I know you don't want to hear this but, i’m diagnosed with cancer”....she explained how she was diagnosed with it, she had a lot of tumors and a lump in her throat, I didn't believe this, my life had changed forever at that moment, I thought to myself, how was i going to cope with this? The change would be hard but maybe it will bring something good hopefully

In Some Memories of My Father, the narrator’s father tells him “This is the way our lives turn out, Mikey. Disappointing.”(Some Memories). He says this because life did not turn out the way he wanted it to. Life is actually not inherently disappointing, it is merely what you make of it and how you live your life. Mikey’s father is disappointed with his life because he made wrong choices that he regrets.

On an unusually warm February day last year, my brother and I sat on the back porch enjoying our lunch. We laughed while prodding one another with jubilant harassments. As we conversed and consumed our meal, our parents returned from my dad’s doctor’s appointment. Because my dad was experiencing swelling in his neck we all suspected that he had an infecting in his glands, or some other minut illness. When my parents joined us, I jokingly asked, “So are you dying Dad?” The moment I uttered those words, I knew I said the wrong thing. Pain gripped my father’s face. He sighed. My parents told us that he has cancer in his throat,his glands and on the back of his tongue. I immediately left, overwhelmed by grief, worry,and anguish. Then the Lord imparted some knowledge upon me. Cancer is a terribly destructive disease, but since Jesus is a loving God, He brings people into our lives to help alleviate to pain.

One of my favorite memories would be going to hawaii. I went last year after my birthday. All of my family went. My dad, step mom,sister,step sister,step brother,all four cousins, and all four aunts and uncles went with us. We stayed in hawaii on kona island I think. We stayed in a little condo with just me my dad,step mom,sister,step sister, and step brother. The first day we just walked around the town checking out our surrounding area. The second day we went to the beach and stayed there for about 4 hours. Later that day we continued too just walk around fir a little bit. A couple days and many long drives later, we ended up at black sand beach. There were turltles everywhere.. Then we later went too two step beach where there are a lot of dolphins. I was close enough too them too be able too reach out and touch them. I mean, i didn't touch them because they were wild dolphins and there was like 40 of them, but i could've. Instead i decided too just swim down about 10-20 feet below the surface and get underneath one of the dolphins. It worked. I couldn't breathe, but it worked.

When we walked to our car, we failed to open the car doors. We then realized it was because my brother had locked them. We peered into the car windows to find my brother dozed off into a nap. My mother and I were suddenly overwhelmed with a rush of fear. However, that fear settled once we felt the cool windows of my mom's car indicating that the air conditioning was on. Shortly after us, my dance teacher had walked into the parking and he noticed the predicament we were in.

In the afternoon he usually spent a couple of hours locked in his room and at night he laid on his bed without being able to sleep. One day I was so worried that my dad didn't eat enough, so around the time he locked himself in his room, I went to listen to what was happening. It was then that I heard my father cry for the first time. Something told me that I had to look for a way to open the door and try to console him so I did. When I opened the door I told him that I understood his pain because I was feeling it too, my sister was on the verge of death but that didn’t mean I had to make myself sick. He said he knew I needed him and so did my mother but that he felt guilty that it was his baby the one sick and not him. As tears came out of his eyes, he told me that he wanted to protect me and my sister more than anything else. His incapability of taking my sister’s sickness away made him really sad but he also didn’t want me to see him so broken so he thought that by hiding himself from me, his pain would affect me less. There was a beautiful feeling in his words. I was used to seeing my dad constantly protect and embrace my sister and me, but I never knew how important his daughters were to

The cloud-like carpet graced my feet as I seized the nearest corner. Relief radiated out of my chest; meanwhile the serenity enveloping me dissolved the insults of stress condensed throughout the day. Many in my circumference reciprocated my actions, shifting my focus to them. That made me grasp the diversity of prayers accumulated in the ambience. While some were scarcely whispering their desires; the facial expressions were fluorescent.

Mom picked us up early from school one day, and I saw a look of fear on her face as she uncharacteristically sped away. "Mom, where are we going?" I asked. "Your dad is in the hospital, he's very sick. We are going to see him," she replied, choking on her words speaking to her two young children. "WHAT'S WRONG!?" my brother and I exclaimed. "Your dad broke his leg really bad, and he could have a blood clot that could go to his heart." I couldn't control myself. I cried all the way to the

“Mommy! I’m sick!” I cried to my mom for the billionth time that week. I had come down with a very bad cold. As a three-year old, the cold was just an annoyance more than anything. My mom gave me cough syrup to help me sleep well. I woke up well-rested the next day. All of my siblings were going to school, so it was a day with just Mommy and I. I was as happy as could be.