My Dad, The Very Tall, Black Haired

While arriving to the foster home, I seen them gardening outside. We all sat down at the kitchen table, and began to talk about rules and all that good stuff. Cindy which is the foster mom had to call the foster dad Jerry because he was working, which he is a teacher at high school in Mauston. After he arrived, we began to talk about the positives, and the negatives. I knew i would be fine, until my mom had to leave, that's when i knew everything wouldn’t be alright. She gave me hug, and i couldn't hold back. But after a couple of days with being there, it was alright. I started to be able to talk to my mom on the phone, and in 2 ½ months, i could go on a community visit. I started to love it their more and more. Jerry and I became closer and closer, Cindy and I never really did connect. But throughout the nine months, everything changed. The whole house was fighting, i thought throughout these couple of months, i would be able to move around the fighting. It was all going well until one night, when Jerry brought up, all my mistakes. Then everything went down hills, i wanted to be out of the house, and then i found myself making even more mistake then i was while being home. My social seen that also, mostly every weekend i was sent right back to jail. I was running from the foster home, fighting, drinking, all this stuff i highly regret. And i now know i could never take back. If i could do this all over again, i would, it sucks i wish i could of had a better experience, because not many people get to do what i got to do when i was sent to foster

I came home one day to see both of my parents sad. As a third grader, I didn’t completely understand at the time, but my father had been laid off from the job he’d had since his teenage years. My father had started at the age of eighteen as a student worker at Southern Miss, and after years of hard work he had been promoted to the manager of shipping and receiving on campus. When the recession struck, the need to save money resulted in his position being terminated. My father was without a job. My father loved that job and when he lost it, he changed. He found a new love, alcohol. He let his love for alcohol become an addiction. He would do anything for alcohol; he even had secret stashes when my mom had removed all the prior alcohol from the house. Quickly my father became a violent drunk and began to routinely beat my mother and me. He became unstoppable; no person could get him back on track so my mother, in an attempt to keep me safe, removed him from the house. Even my mother’s best efforts weren’t always enough, as my father constantly broke into our house. One day my mother and I came home and my father was waiting in our den with a gun. We walked in, he pointed the gun at us, and then back at himself. He couldn’t decide to kill my mother, himself, or just all of us. He had more hatred in his eyes

My dad cheated on my mom when I was five years old my youngest sister was only four months old. At the time I obviously did not understand what was really happening. My grandmother told me a few years back about the day my dad sat down with me and told me that he was leaving our house. She said I called her and cried and said that I didn’t have a family anymore. She said that broke her heart and knowing how I felt about this at only age five breaks my heart today. Although my parents did split up my dad went to live back with his mother. We were able to see him every Tuesday, Wednesday and every other weekend. He actually used to be my hero. When I was in third grade both my parents found new people to be with. My dad actually was dating the women he cheated on my mom with. My mom was dating some guy she met online who became my step father. This affected my life greatly. I hated moving back and forth from house to house, I have been afraid of my dad my whole life I could say he had this tone of voice and everything he did was yell and scream. He used to hit

When I was 3 years old my mother and father got divorced. My father was abusive due to drugs and my mother couldn't handle it anymore. After my parents got divorced my sister Julie and I saw my father every other weekend. My father got more into drugs after the divorce and my sister and I didn’t get to see him much. When I was 7 years old my father got put in jail. Since my sister and I were only children we didn't understand why our father left. Our father was in and out of county jail during our life D.U.I’s, starting fights with people, hitting my mother. We didn’t know much about what our father did because he didn’t want us to know because we were too young. But my father was sentenced about 30 days in county jail. My sister and I missed

It has been about six years since I last saw my cousin, who will remain anonymous, and unfortunately, the last time I saw him, it was through a thick sheet of bulletproof glass, talking over a telephone, in the county jail where he was being held during sentencing. I regret to say that this was not the first time I had seen him “behind bars”. As a matter of fact, I cannot even remember the last time I saw him when he was not wearing an orange jumpsuit. I know that when I was young, I always got picked on in school and he was the only person who stood up for me. He protected me and loved me the way only your favorite

Many times in my life, I have received many lessons from my father. My father is a special man, he's nurtured me, cared for me in a way no man will ever get to do. My dad is someone who I can always say has been there for me, and i couldn't ever imagine life without him. Yet, there is one thing i can't ever forget. He's an alcoholic. My "dad" was never there, the alcohol was. There were times when i just couldn't believe to smell the alcohol on his breath. My whole life, my dad was in the Navy, so we moved around a lot. We never really had a home until i was around 7 years old, so through that time we struggled to have a real family due to us living out of boxes. When we bought our home in Harbor Ridge, things changed. My dad was really there, he went to my sporting events, he was home for dinner, and he was even there to tuck me into bed

I needed to find out who this person was so that he could sign the abandonment papers, so I get some help from someone you might know, one of the girls that beat me in prison. We met each other in a group home a while back and we are friends now. I hope that this man isn’t some weird person. I don’t really want to meet him. I thought to myself who really is my dad the man who made me or the man who was there for me, the man who was there for my first words, my first steps, and who changed my diapers. This man is not my father and I do not want any kind of relationship with him. I told you nothing ever goes my

She told me she'd be back for me. I remember her calling me saying she's coming for me, but she never showed up. It was heartbreaking as a child, growing up without parents in my daily life. I never got the embarrassment parents are supposed to do, or the protectiveness from my dad. I would cry myself to sleep at night just wishing I had them both back. It's been 10 years, I've grown up. I'm so mature and smart. It's really sad that I can keep a job but my own mother can't. I've tried reconnecting with her, it's a slow process but it's going good. I can't do anything about my father though, he's a lost cause. Life is a bag of shit sometimes but you just gotta ignore it and move on. I've fucked up a lot, I wish some things I could take back but then I wouldn't be who I am now. I carry a lot of emotional baggage with me, A list of past histories, and A tragic backstory. I've had my heart broken more than once, and I've been used more than I can remember. I just hope that this relationship I'm in now last a fucking long time, because holy hell this guy, I pretty much worship him. He's everything to me. He's the type who doesn't complicate my life, he makes it easier to life

Every-time I see the faintest glimmer of him caring I realize I’m not done with him and deep down I still care and want him to care about me too so I get my hopes up, but then he always lets me down again. I am not a violent person, I rarely swear, and I hate fighting with people. Somehow whenever I am talking to my dad all of those things bubble up inside of me, I get violent, angry, and I can honestly say that he is the only person I’ve ever sworn at. I hate being that person, but I’m so stupid that if I get the chance to see him I jump at it. I hope eventually I can tell myself I’m done with him and deep down it will actually be true and I can be free from the

To this day, I have problems when visiting my dad, as I know him as the sole creator of the divorce. Right away, I wanted nothing to do with my dad. I stopped seeing him, until gradually I worked back to seeing him, then seeing him at my old house, and then finally spending the night at my old house. Now, I feel back at square one. Visiting with him is not enjoyable, it is something I dread, and feels like it wastes my time. After my mom remarried in September, I moved to a new house and finally feel like I live a life of a person with a whole family. And now, my dad is no longer part of this family. While this is not fair to him, life is not fair and his actions brought upon the divorce. His actions cause me to go to counseling for years to talk about my problems. His actions caused my social problems in which I had a hard time making friends because I feel I can not trust anyone. His actions make me fear that I will never have a happy relationship where I get married and have kids and grow old together with my spouse. And his actions show that there was a trace of happiness in our

I may have not realised it but March 5, 2002 was the hardest day, even if I have no recollection of it. When you're 2 years old you don't recall much but snippets , like being given 2 small goldfish. Which is my only real memory of my father. Now for a while my aunt moved in after that day, I thought that was normal. Until I about was 5. I noticed many children getting picked up from daycare by their fathers. When I finally asked my mother where my father was she gave me a somber look and remained silent. Which was the response I’d constantly get she always had a difficult time communicating about him with me. It was hard- really hard. Especially when I learned the truth, about three years later.

Being only a couple months old my mom and dad split up, due to the fact the my dad was hitting my mom. My dad went to jail and when he got out and went back to the house there was only a chair and a table in the house. When I was one my dad brought Jennifer Rickey home to the house along with all four of her children. She is still my step mom to this day. I get along with her really good, I can tell her everything. I tell her everything that I won’t even tell my mom. Sometimes it’s hard that my dad took better care of her children than he ever did his own. He has two other children, Donny and Michael, with a lady named Vicki that he was married to before he was with my mom. Michael wants nothing to do with my dad or even me. I don’t understand why he doesn 't want anything to do with me. I feel like he thinks that our dad is actually a father to me, but wasn 't for him in all honesty he wasn’t he was in and out of jail and never paying the

I love your choice of book for your primary non-fiction book. My Brother Martin: A Sister Remembers Growing Up with The Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. I absolutely love that book. I was subbing in a first grade classroom on Martin Luther King Jr. Day and the teacher asked me to read it and discuss his life and accomplishments. It blew my mind about how much prior knowledge the students’ already had about his life and about other important figures during that time period (i.e. Rosa Park).

We visited New York a few times until I was the age of three. Around this time we were staying with Latonya Broxton (my mother), who got pregnant and gave me a little sister. She already had two older daughters so my little sister and I fitted in. Only problem was my dad still wanted to be out and about in the streets. When I was five my dad got in trouble with the law. I learned that my dad was sentence to 13 years. My mother said it came from hanging with wrong people. I can’t quite remember the last time I saw him or the last thing he said to me I just remember not seeing him around anymore.

Most of the memories I have of my father are bad. He was a withdrawn binge alcoholic, sometimes given to violent episodes in which he physically assaulted my mother. He never took us anywhere, and he rarely spoke to us, although sometimes, late at night, he would play cards with me or we would watch an old movie together. He loved Barbara Stanwyck.