The relationship between father and son is like no other, commonly an unshakeable bond is formed between a man and his son. This is an ongoing cycle that shapes the next generation of men. In Hugh Garner’s short story “The Father” he tells the story of a relationship between a father and son that has been damaged due to being too preoccupied with the way people see the father. When people focus on priorities that revolve around themselves they risk damaging the relationships they have with the ones they care about because they are preoccupied with their image.
My dad is the perfect picture of the “American Dad.” He plays football in the yard, has “a talk” with any boy before they are allowed to date me, and considers grilling a fine art; so, when he informed my family that we would be embarking on the “Good Ole American Family Road Trip” I was not even slightly surprised. Me being the travel enthusiast that I am was overjoyed at the idea of travelling to other states and experiencing things that I had not yet seen, but I was also weary at the thought of spending almost two weeks straight in a car with my family.
"You'll learn someday that sacrifices have to be made in certain situations, it was the same thing with mother."
“It's been three weeks May, don't you think that dad would tell us where we're going?” Sky asked.
My stop was the last on the bus. I sit on the bus with my head tucked into the hood of my sweatshirt, so Erik and his friends do not see me. The bus squeaks and pulls to a never-ending stop. I let everyone else off before me and finally walk off, then say “thank you,” the driver.
My dad and I were in the car going to our my first organized basketball game. My heart was pounding I was already sweating and I was the most nervous I have ever been in my whole entire life!
My heart was so fucking heavy watching my girl lay in that coma and the love that Dmitri showed her was just everything. My girl finally had the man she deserved, I was so overjoyed when she came back to us. My mind was set on one thing planning my wedding until my period didn't show up, so here I am pissing on the fucking stick of shame for any unmarried woman. Yes, I knew Redd would take care of our child and yes we were engaged but we were not married and I don't think we are ready for a baby. But if I was pregnant we weren't leaving this island until I had his last name, shit our only family was right here with us. I came out of the bathroom after saying a quick prayer, I picked up a half sleep Lyric and rocked her in my arms, “Shanice
I looked up to see what was running towards me. Then i saw a werewolf with beautiful blue glowing eyes. And that werewolf started to look like a person, and that person looked like my brother.
As I walk in, I see my dads old man blowing up what looks like the last green balloon. He’s got smoker lungs, so it looks like he took a while, since there was only one bag. I let him finished and got his inhaler for him. He looks like a grumpy old man, but once you get to know him he’s cool. He’s bald in one spot, just like my dad, and wears big dog t-shirts. He served in the Vietnam war. He’s shorter than most people.
Ordinary dads work an eight-hour job, then are able to go home and relax with their families. Ordinary dads teach their children to drive when they are fifteen rather than ten. Ordinary dads do not have to quit working to attend their child’s game. But, my dad is not ordinary. My dad never stops working. He does not have the weekends off or any vacation days. I have only seen him take one day off in my entire life, for my sister’s wedding. He wakes before dawn and does not retire until long past sundown due to that he has devoted his life to not only being a dad, but also a farmer, teacher, and supporter.
Growing up with a dad like mine you are so thankful for everything that comes to your way. The military has been a huge part of my life since the day I was born. My dad, Sean Aguilar, is in the Army and fights for our freedom every day when he is home and away. My dad has experienced so much and has so many stories. He is the bravest, smartest, coolest, craziest man I know and I’m lucky to call him my dad.
My father was born on December 15, 1950, in Da Nang, a sleepy city located in Central Vietnam. His mother, my grandma, died when he was very little, so growing up, it was just him and his dad (my grandpa). Hearing my dad tell stories of him and Grandpa together brought to light just how much my grandpa meant to Dad. Every principle that Dad has taught me, he has learned from Grandpa. Sadly, that relationship was short-lived; my grandpa died when Dad was in high school. From the day his dad died to his high school graduation, Dad moved in with his uncle and his uncle’s family. Being the oldest member of his uncle’s children, Dad often had to take care of his cousins, juggling schoolwork with home responsibilities. The death of his parents so early in his life and the added responsibility of looking after his cousins meant that Dad had to grow up fast. In the time where most kids his age were exploring their surroundings and not having a care in the world, Dad was hard at work: tackling schoolwork and domestic chores at once. He tells me he had little time for sleep. After making sure all his cousins were in bed, Dad often stayed up until 3 in the morning, immersing himself in schoolwork. Then he would sleep until 6, and the day would repeat itself. Dad’s situation was not uncommon in Vietnam. Society in Vietnam expects the oldest male child in a family to carry the brunt of the workload among siblings: the one to help out the parents. They expected the child to juggle many
“Dad!? Where are you going?” I asked. “Oh nowhere son just stay home. I'll be back by one in the morning.Don't worry” He said.“Why do you do this to me dad? I said but it was too late. He shut the garage door and sped off into the dark night. I knew where he went. I knew what he did. He did this every night and it hasn't gotten us anywhere. He goes to the Casino 30 minutes away and gambles all of our money down the drain. My dad doesn't have a job so we can't pay rent for this cheap motel we live in and we are on our last strike. The manager says if we don't pay our bill in 7 days, they are kicking us out. I went to bed that night hungry, but I was used to it.
It was a cold dark winter night and my father was supposed to be home from work so my mother kept calling his cellphone. After many unanswered calls, a woman picked up the phone, it was a nurse who told us that my father had been in a terrible motor vehicle accident.
Growing up, we were a happy family; however that all changed when my dad lost his job during my junior year in high school. At the earlier age, it was hard for me to understand what could have made my dad turned into such a different person. There began constant fighting around the house; it made me hated my family to the point that all I could think about was leaving them. I started to hide in my room whenever they fight. As time goes on, it became a habit to go in my room and sleep whenever I came home from school. Slowly, I lost motivation in everything. I used to be able finish all my homework before dinnertime. But it got the point when it was really hard just to write an email to my teacher, explaining why I could not turn in the