Father And My Father

On January 5, 2009 my father pasted away. He and I did not have the typical father-son relationship; we did not have a relationship at all. I presumed that it would have a little if any affect on me. However, as the semester continued, it seemed to get worse. Besides my father’s passing, several weeks later my grandmother was diagnosed with dementia. It was difficult for me to deal with, but it was more difficult for my mother to handle.

The psychological effects of childhood experiences can have a huge impact on who we become later in life. My father passed away in a crotch rocket accident two years ago and to this day it still affects me. He was a great guy, whom I looked up to dearly. There are several times I especially recall wanting him around. I had an immense desire for my father when my heart had been broken for the first time. I often find myself wishing my father were here to bolster me in my most momentous achievements in school, such as Beta Club and Basketball. When I am having an unpleasant day, I often wish my dad were still here to come running at me with open arms. Namely when I moved schools, I wanted my father around to help my mother decide if she was making the right decision moving me. Although I am usually a cheerful, carefree girl, the psychological effects kick in sometimes, and I become a depressed, lonely young girl suffering from low self-esteem.

Growing up with depression can be hard. It can be especially hard when you don’t know you have it. I was informed of my depression after a series of test and numerous trips to the doctors. I didn’t enjoy many of things other people did when I was younger due to my depression, but as I got older, dealing with my depression came to be harder and harder. I showed no interest in anything or anyone. Things I ones use to love to do no longer called my name. My guitar gathered dust, my skateboards corroded with the seasons, my hopes to ever feel normal again gone. Constantly getting different medications was the worst part. I never knew if that day I would be happy, sad, mad, or my all-time favorite, suicidal.

Towards the end of summer, my dad got really bad with his mental problems. He would pace around the house, looking for something to do; despite there was plenty to do around the house. We live close to the water so he would drive down there and then minutes later he would be back. He did this a few times a day. This dealt with his anxiety. I could tell when his depression would come out because he would hide downstairs in our basement. Although, his office is down there for his business he would stay down there all night. He would use this as an excess to avoid things. Now

When my dad passed away last July, it was tough. It was halfway through the summer, I had just graduated from high school, and I was preparing to embark on the exciting and nerve-wracking journey that is college. All the while, I was living life in my own little world, detached and disconnected from those closest to me. Most of my days consisted of working one job or another (at the time I was juggling three, for no justifiable reason), and my days off consisted of sleeping in, spending lazy afternoons by the pool, evenings by the fire with friends, and late nights of Netflix. But I got lost in that little world. I forgot to be present, mindful, and – most of all – appreciative. So when my dad, who was neither sick nor ill, didn’t wake up from his sleep one morning, Reality didn’t just bring me back down to earth. It hit me. Hard.

father son relationship by making the son superior to the father. The chaos of this power dynamic is exemplified when Stevens is asked to restrict his father’s duties around the house, due to his decreasing health. Stevens enters his father’s chambers to deliver the message and recalls dictating

While packing a suitcase in my room with the door closed, an envelope was slipped under the door into my room.

My mom sometimes refers to me as her husband. I became her husband after she and my dad separated at the age of eight; I remember my mom crying in my lap. As a child, it’s difficult to picture your parent crying in your lap instead of the other way around. We were in her bedroom, laundry piled in the corner - a first in my usually neat and orderly household. The door was locked to keep my younger siblings, two sisters and one brother, from coming in because you have to put on a good face. This was my introduction to being my mom’s husband.

Have you ever put your trust, and love in someone’s hands and they betrayed you? Well, I did at just three years old I met my mom's boyfriend, who I would call dad at five years old. Through the first three years of my life, it had always been my mother and me against the whole world. But at three years old a man came into our lives who would change our entire lives whether for the good or for the bad. This man feigned to be a great father to my family, although he was the love of my mother’s life. He was and is still the only Dad I know, the man who showed me how cruel, and heartless someone could be. Through the first years of my life up until I was nine years old I was the happiest and joyful girl in the entire world, filled with the love of a mother and a father. But soon that would change after the man I gave all my trust and love, who promised to protect me from all evil betrayed me by sexually assaulting me at just nine years old. At just nine years old my voice was taken away from me and I became trapped within myself because I did not want to lose the love of my mother. I kept this ongoing assault to myself up until I was fourteen years old. And my whole life changed because not only did I expose a truth that I knew the rest of my family sided with my step-father the “Dad” I knew, the Dad that was supposed to love and care for my mother and me. He was a monster to my mother and me, but an angel to the rest of society. According to my family a responsible, strong,

When I was 16 years old, I realized I was similar to my dad. I always felt different from my family. My parents and my sister's look-alike. Their skin colors are all the same. I’ve always been the darker and chubbier one in the family. Sometimes I used to think I wasn’t even related to them. I even asked my mom as a kid, “did you guys kidnap me from someone as a kid?”

Today I had a very heartfelt and emotional talk with my Mother’s Father, Andy Tipich. He told me the legend of his father, and the loving memories of his mother. Along with his own struggles with Rheumatic Fever during elementary school. In his own words saying how his mother would have, “put up with him.” Comparing also this almost newly arriving American family on my Mom’s side to my Dad’s family who has been American before the revolutionary war in the early 1700s.

My father is my inspiration, motivator and the actor of my life. I am so sorry Dad! at the very last moment of your life I could not even say you bye. I had a mountainous pile of dream to share with you, to discuss with you but all curiosity remained unresolved. I know you were excited to see your grandson that you hadn’t met since his birth. Thats the reason I was flying to Nepal as soon as possible but unfortunately we can’t meet due to almighty. You flew away before I reached to you. You left this world without meeting me and your grandson forever. I felt so wretched Dad. I was teared, cracked and broken down to the road. I wasn’t able to give you the physical attachment with my son to whom you were waiting for a long time to feel, to see and to touch. I had dream of seeing your happiness after putting him on your lap. I was thinking that you would laugh at him, enjoy with his innocents and would forget your physical tiredness and pain.

I come from one of the largest families in my area. Our family ancestry can be traced to almost 200 hundred years due to the excellent record that my family lineage has preserved. First, I know of my great grandfather who possibly lived between 1760 and 1830. He was called Mbato and so much has been documented about him. He gave birth to my again far off grandfather called Okumu who also lived for another ninety years. Okumu who was my grandfather had lived at a time when the European colonialist had started to gain the strongest control over our continent. It is not long enough and in 1920, my paternal grandfather was born. The father of my Dad whom I personally. My father is married TO Jane and they both have four children, which am part. Our family is composed of two daughters and two sons. My brothers are James and myself- Abraham. My sisters are Pamela and Lydia. It is also however important to note that our family had started to spread far and wide at this time due to intermarried and migration to different locations.

Every young boy's dream is to grow up and be just like his dad. This was no different for me during my childhood. As I grew up, I was always watching my dad; observing what he was doing and how. He always seemed to know what to do in any situation that would arise. Whether it was fixing the lawn mower, doing some construction to the house, or just something as simple as day to day conversation. My father is the person responsible for making me who I am today. He taught me to be empathetic, compassionate, strong-willed, motivated and most importantly loving.

I only know my history through pictures of what I have seen. The only picture that I did not know was my father’s dad. My father’s dad pasted away before I was born. My mom as a kid went to church and so did my aunt. I haven’t really been in a church other than Christmas and Easter or when I used to visit my Aunt Karen. But she passed away too soon. Most are from family members I know. I grew up really close to my family. They helped me be who I am today because of how we interacted together and how happy they made me. I liked that we had dinner with my Aunt and Uncle and cousins a lot. At least see once a week. I liked that we did stuff outside of the house. Sometimes as a child I thought they were mini adventures. My family and friends