Life Is The Worst Of My Life

First, the car nut my dad Mark is 45 years old. He loves to fish, hunt, and drag racing at Brainerd International Raceway in Minnesota. Where the cars go faster than the speed of sound. In his spare time he is camping and deer hunting. I have many memories with my dad like fishing in Nisswa, Minnesota. I love my father because he spoiled me rotten and he is my dad. He loves camping in a camper and fishing off or on the dock. He dislikes bad drivers. I would describe my father as fun,

Fathers love their kids so much. Even when they mess up or are mean to someone at school they still have unconditional love for them. When I was younger I was a terrible child. I am very strong willed and that made conflicts hard for me between the ages of 3-10 and it made things really hard because I was always angry about the smallest things. I struggled for a long time because I felt like I had to prove my point. I would defy my parents and it really caused problems between our relationship. I have learned over the years it is so beneficial to approach everything with love.

My dad and I would get up a first light and go deer hunting together, forming memories all along. There is nothing comparable to the feeling I got when I watched my first deer drop, with my father beaming next to me in the frigid deer blind. Then there was the pheasant hunting in Iowa and the incessant recreational target shooting, all while accompanied by my dad. Hunting and our shared passion for firearms has been a has been a catalyst for many of our best memories together.

My dad has always been a great person in my eyes. When I was little, my mom was gone in the mornings at work, leaving my dad to do our hair for school. I remember how much effort he would put in trying to put my hair up in a ponytail. He would try so hard and get so frustrated every time strands of my hair would fall loose from his hand, but he´d still attempt again and spray a bunch of that suave kids detangler over my head till my hair was fully soaked again. He eventually gave up on the ponytail and instead sprayed more of that detangler on my hair and brushed it down. I never complained but only giggled till I saw him smile back at me. Every morning after that first morning, he´d still attempt the ponytail, but I always ended up walking out of the house with my hair down soaked with that suave detangler and I loved it because as simple as my hair looked down, it was done by my dad.

My dad has always been my biggest motivator and the reason for growing up the way I did. We had a very tight relationship; I was definitely a "daddy's girl." I always wanted to be around him, he was someone I looked up to when I was younger. I always looked at him like he was so much more

Dad was very loving and caring. Ever since I could walk I always had a crayon or pencil in my hands. I loved to draw and color. My dad loved how I drew him pictures of my mom and our family. My sister hated it though. She hated

One of the earliest memories I have of my father is when he would take me to the park and we would play baseball. My father was eager to teach me everything he knew about the game, and I was eager to learn. He took it easy on me at first, allowing me to overcome my fear of being hit by the ball. Each time we went back to the park he would throw the ball a little harder. It was not long

My first ball was still further than his on his second shot. I am a very competitive person and I will probably never do it again, so he will never live down that one. But on that day it was much more to me than just beating my dad at something, that day was the day I felt as though I had truly made my father proud of me.

When I go to Tucson Arizona, there is always something to do with my father. Every year we go golfing and we always have a lot of fun. Last year we went out in the dessert and we rode dune buggies. That must have been the most fun I have ever had with my dad. Unfortunately, sometimes when I go he gets called in to work and he has to leave the state, so my trip gets cut short by a couple of days. It’s not fun when

That everyday I would wake up ,and would either be so sad all I wanted to do is cry or I would just hate the world. I told him I could never bring myself to commit suicide ,but I had absolutely no motivation to live. He was there for me. My dad did not threaten to send me away , he listened and agreed with some statements on mine about my view of the world. Now two months later I have an indomitable smile. I am now in counseling and getting help for what I needed , because of my “ father” I am alive.

The air was damp and still. Not a single breeze on this seemingly hot as fuck evening in the middle of August. I close my eyes as I continue down the sidewalk out of the small neighborhood of shitty apartments, most of which that are left to rot. Not very many people live here, which is probably my favorite part of this place. No one yelling at the other from their balcony, cursing while a million little children run about getting bullied and thrown to the ground. It’s so quiet. So quiet and peaceful, it’s hard to imagine that town is right around the corner. It’s as if even the outside world’s sound had abandoned this place.

We knew that he was going to be locked away for a while so we moved to Florida for about two years. During those two years, we only saw my dad once and that was the summer before we went into fifth grade, we got to be with him the whole summer ordered by the court. That summer was really fun! because my dad had a girlfriend that he lived with at the time and she had two horses so in the morning we would saddle up the beautiful horses and ride them for a couple of hours every day except for Wednesday because they needed a day to have a break. Then when the summer finally ended my mom met my dad at my grandma's house to come and pick us up, I was so but happy at the same

“Just please hurry up, our flight takes off in an hour and if you take longer to get ready, we’re going to get there when the competition is over!”

In conclusion, I am daddy's little girl and proud of that. I could not of asked for a better father. My dad has always been there for me and I wil always be there for him. I respect my father because he deserves to be. He stayed and was a father and never took the easy way out like in the world today most fathers do. I believe my father is the best at everything he does. He has been through so much in his life and still is a happy wonderful man; I would have been sad and depressed if I had to go through hald as much as my father. Dad is strong and looks ahead not He still works hard everyday, at the age of 64 years old. I admire and respect my father for everything he has does and has done. I work hard at everything I do for the greatest reward at the end of all my accomplishments is making my father proud.

Throughout my life, my family and I have always been really close. We spend time together and just generally like one another. There are no things that come up as a tradition or practice we regularly perform, but one thing that is almost an unspoken tradition is the way I spend time and connect with my dad. Sitting down on a rainy day or just the odd night to watch a movie together is a regular activity that my dad, my brother, my friends, and I do.