Eulogy For Father

A phenomenal, strong, and intelligent woman. I introduce myself in such ways because I am a daddyless daughter, however being a daddy-less daughter does not define who I am. It does not take away the hard work, and achievements I have encountered in my 20 years of living.

And he hasn’t made a visible effort to contact me. I remember when I was little and thought that my father could do no wrong. He walked on water and it was always my mother that was the so-called “bad guy.” It never clicked in my mind that he could be human and make mistakes. There is a book by a man named Herzog titled Father Hunger: Explorations with Adults and Children. After eighteen years of being raised by a single mother, I relate to this book; I now realize that many aspects in this book describe me. The term “Father Hunger” means “the unconscious longing experienced by many males and females for an involved father (source 1).” That said, I can now see that during the limited, short amounts of time I’d spent with my father as a child, I was yearning, hungering for his approval and acceptance. That acceptance and approval was never received though. Maybe becoming a father at seventeen years old was too much to handle. Maybe now he is trying to live out his stolen youth. I can’t hold that against him. However, I will always be bitter that my mother never got that

I later got tired and gave up on the matter. I was hurt and broken

At first, my mom and my dad both had lived in the DR for a while before coming to the U.S with their family. After them moving to New York and not knowing each other my mom and dad attended the same school. Then they were going to high school where they started being friends and after a year or so goes by they get together. After graduating high school they both went to college. But they had me, got married and my dad left college to work hard to support for us. Then my dad left college to look out after me, but after three years later they had my sister. My sister and I got close, but my dad taught us how to be clean. So every day after school, I’ll do my homework, clean and I would never like my room dirty. So I thank him for that because

Ed doesn’t care. He has lived long enough to realize it doesn’t matter what people think. His hair is balding on the top, goes down to about his shoulders, and is as white as snow. He wears the same outfit everyday: a battered pair of jeans, ford belt buckle, and boots. He doesn’t wear a shirt, I always think he wakes up and can’t find a shirt so he makes himself just decent enough to go outside. He has tattoos all over his chest, and could be the scariest looking person I have ever seen. When we knock on his door at about 3 p.m. we assume he is just waking up because he looks like he has seen daylight for the first time in a week. He opens the door and gives us a grin of relief and says “You here to mow the lawn? She probably needs it. How long has it been?” “About a month” I reply. He hands Camden $30 and we got to work. Ed looks up at the sky and says a work I can’t say in this paper then he goes back inside.

My parents Brad and Alina always seem to be arguing about something. Brad, my father, is always gone on business trips and never seems to have time for family. I'm in 7th grade now and my mom is my only support. My mom is always trying to make excuses for why my dad couldn’t make it home on time. However, she makes me smile every time I see her in the stands cheering me on. My father hasn’t been to any of my track meets, basketball, or baseball games for almost two years. I always hear my friends talking about how they went fishing or played catch with their dad’s over the weekend. When I was in first grade my dad didn’t work as much so we would all go as a family to the park and run around. However, when I was In third grade I got diagnosed

And in the end, after all that's happened these past 19 months, the Barack Obama I know today is the same man I fell in love with 19 years ago. He's the same man who drove me and our new baby daughter home from the hospital 10 years ago this summer, inching along at a snail's pace, peering anxiously at

I will always remember the look on my mother's face when she first told me that my dad had died. No emotion. Nothing. It seemed to me that my mom did not care that her husband had just died. I did not want to ask her why she reacted that way for fear of upsetting her, so I turned to others to talk about what had happened and really open up. Talking to others about how I felt about that situation lifted a heavy feeling in my chest and made those first few days without my dad bearable. It came to a point that anytime I got that heavy feeling in my chest I knew it was time to talk about my feelings. Expressing my feelings and opening up to people has now become something I regularly do. I quickly learned to discern who to tell what about me,

I know we are all feeling a little bit sad, that we've lost our Pepe, our friend, and our dad.

Well, to start off I wanted to apprise you about my roots. I've been told most of the people from my community don't make it far in life, well I'm here to prove those people wrong. It is understandable the perspective that people might have regarding where I am from but just because I come from a place where there are crimes almost daily, it doesn't mean that everyone here is in any way like that. Fortunately for me, I was raised by a loving mother and father, to a certain extent. Of course I was always daddy’s little girl, until the day my parents decided to separate. Seeing my mother go through so much as a single parent shaped me to become the person I am today. The heart ache you get when seeing your single parent struggle is, need

My father died a week ago today. He had a profound impact on the life I live today and on the person I became. The relationship between a son and a father can often be quite complicated. Not so, for me. I was blessed to have a rather simple, yet powerful and loving, relationship with my dad. And because I believe that at Fast Company we have created a community of friends, not mere readers with little connection to our magazine, I want to share the eulogy I delivered at his funeral on Saturday.

I am so thankful that there has not been a time in my life that I can remember not having you by my side. You have been one of the truest friends I have ever known. This world is a better place because your sweet, compassionate heart is here to care for all the people in it. I admire you for your gift of always seeing the best in people and always being willing to give them a second chance. You have taught me so much about how to love fiercely and I thank God everyday that he allowed us to be together for all these years. I miss you everyday I’m not with you and wish more than anything we could be back in our little apartment taking one of our many naps together.

Hi. Patrick.I hope all is well with and Zara.This is a difficult letter to write.

Why are you defending my dad? The way you look at me seems to suggest you greatly admire him…or even…or even love the old bastard.

He was not astonished when I covered his eyes with my hands from his back. Maybe he was waiting whole day for this gift giving moment, because of I told him that there would be something special. Rather than gave him a little gadget like before, I showed him my bulky planner, on which written detailed plans for near future. My father laughed and then looked through it carefully, like he was actually reading my life. His respects were always the reason that I would like to share thought with him. He remarked and discussed with me once a while. Then I felt he stopped leafing through. Yes, he saw the page for him, where listed what will I do for him as I grows.