Descriptive Essay About Father

warm smile and kind eyes is what attributes to a man, known as my father. He works hard and is diligent, but what defines him is the kindness that is always visible within him. My father, Ben Morgan, is forty-eight with light brown hair, and turquoise eyes that always have a sense purpose in them. From years of thinking, he has lines that rest by his eyes accompanied by the usual lines that encircle a smile he shows to all. My father has a kindness in him, in which no one in our family has. A few examples

Tal Prystowsky Mr. Petro English 3 September 25th, 2017 June 16th 1964, that’s the day my father was born… March 2nd 2010, that’s the day my father passed. My dad Elan Prystowsky, was the most hard working, caring, funny, awesome person in any way shape or form. Most people take death as a very sad time and as a very serious time. Well, when my father passed I was only ten and my sister was only seven, we didn’t know what cancer was, we didn’t know why he came home once a week and we didn’t know

mom started telling me about my dad and what he has done like, drinking while driving. Then after that she started letting me call my dad on her phone we will just talk about me and what’s going on in school and every time am on the phone with him I always ask if he was ok, and if he's ok then I felt like heaven. But then I heard he was still drinking while he is driving and I was scared I didn’t want him to go jail. Even though my dad did lots of bad stuff I still cared about him and I still loved

McKenna looks of approval making her blush. It had been a long day nothing had seemed to go right and even the sound of people talking was annoying. I was sinking, drowning, like the Titanic frantically trying to send telegrams to nearby ships. At about 10:30 that night I decided to get some food. Dodd must have heard me go downstairs because within a couple minutes he was sitting at the kitchen table asking me how my day went. Everything I had kept bottled up that had built up over the last few years

Our only neighbor had brought my intoxicated father home… I was happy that my father was alive and home. At first nothing was wrong, he sat down and began to listen to Mexican music. Blasting the music so that everyone in the house would know he was home. My mother told my father it was time to sleep. He began to yell slurring his words barely understandable, his

The first time I met him it was a hot, humid day in September with the sun blazing down on all four of us. My sister’s face was beaming proudly as she finally introduced us to her new boyfriend as he stepped around the front of his maroon truck. We stood in the large parking lot next to the quarter mile, two story school that Lianna and I went to. He was tall, a bit lanky but also muscular. My first impression doesn’t give him much credit to the man he is today, but he gave a firm handshake and pretended

Oh, how mistaken my dad was. I remember him looking down at me, he a towering height of 6’6 and I a height of 3’5, telling me that I wasn’t reading. I remember looking down and getting sad and angry, that I thought I was reading. When I was younger, I loved to “read”. By reading, I mean being read to by my parents every night. One of my parents would lay beside me every night on my twin sized day bed. I would snuggle underneath my quilted blanket that my grandmother made for me, and get ready for

My Father My major paper is going to be about my father. It is going to include all different types of things about him but it will probably be mostly about why i hate him so much. I chose this subject because it is something sensitive to me. Everyday it is a heart break to me because i do not fully understand why he does the things he does. It simply does not make sense how a father could be so terrible. I look around at everyone else who has a dad or

thought he was the best and new everything, but he was a great brother. My mom was a easy going person. She had light brown wavy hair with blue eyes. She was kind of short and she always wore some type of dress. Then there was me. I was 12 at the time, about to turn 13, i was average height and had dark brown hair and almost black eyes. Now you're wondering, where's the dad?. Our dad walked out on us when i was born. It's been hard for my mom but she has always manage to keep a smile on her face. I sat

From the moment we found out my sister was pregnant with her first my dad, a kind hearted Big Foot with a Buddha belly and a prickly grey beard, would joke around and tease me. “So are you going to be an aunty or an uncle?” “Of course I’m going to be an aunty Dad,” I emphasised in a no-brainer tone. “and I’m going to be the best aunty.” I promised with a heavy sense of finality, hands on my hips, sticking my tongue out at my dad, trying hard not to smile. I arrived at the Armadale Hospital