My Experience With My Dad

I remember when I was in middle school and I decided to tell my parents what I wanted to do in life. At first I always wanted to do what my dad thought was best which was electrical engineering, it seemed fine with me until I realized it took a lot of math which I am not very good at. So, as a thirteen-year-old boy I did what I knew was best just keep quiet about wanting to do something different. Fast forward in time two years later I’m 15 talking with my guidance counselor about career jobs. She hands me a sheet with job titles to an endless extent, it stuck out just like that I circled the career path I wanted to take. Physical Therapy was now the road I wanted to go down, it was the best job title I could imagine helping kids with sports injuries and

My granny was the only person in my family to have a college degree. I am the second because of her. From middle school on we talked about college, where I would go, and what I would do when I grew up. Parents encourage careers that lead to the greatest profit, mine were no different. My granny never encouraged me to choose a career based on the profit. She only encouraged me to choose what made me happy. Life had it’s own plan and some things changed how my educational journey would pan out, but that didn’t make it impossible. Because of her I knew anything was

When I was younger, I could not wait for my dad to come home from work each day anticipating the stories that he would have to tell. He had such a way of telling a story that it would draw the listener in like a moth to a flame. I thought they were just neat stories about interesting people and situations that he had encountered in his life. For the longest time I was oblivious to the fact that each story was a lesson about life that my dad would use to teach me about values. Adamant that I would not face the same obstacles in life that his lack of education had granted him he was determined that I be successful in my studies. Though he may have been illiterate when it came to spelling and the mechanics of writing, he was very intelligent and loved to learn new things. His inability to spell did not deter him and he was an avid reader absorbing every bit of knowledge he could from just about

They always encourage me that if i want to succeed i will have to strive for that diploma. I know i have had a stage in my life where i felt that going to a University after high school was a waste of time and a waste of money. But to see how bad my parents wished they had that opportunity made me realize i can not take this for granted. My dad always says jokingly “ I could always learn what you learn on youtube,” Which i always find funny , gives me an insight of him still having that dream of going to school. I understand many choose not to attend college because it is not for them, like my siblings my two oldest siblings both aged twenty- four, and twenty-five, both tried the whole college experience but did not choose to continue because it was not for them. Making me first generation college students. Of course this journey i have experienced has not been that easy. I know that when i was in highschool i did not value education as much as i do to this point. I was young a felt that just taking the easy way out. When i started seeing my grades slip, was the moment i realized everything my parents encouraged me to do i was doing the opposite. Until i got older i started realizing how important education is . I did experience some personal hardships and challenges where i felt i could not continue, but had my parents reminding me Hard work comes to those who really want it and are willing

I have had my whole life planned since the third grade. I was going to be Brain Surgeon, save people, make money, life's two most important things. But as time progressed that future career morphed from being a brain surgeon to a teacher to a lawyer and et cetera, et cetera. Senior year came and I was dead set on being an environmental lawyer. I did it all, applied to colleges, got accepted, and even enrolled. All summer I was thrilled to begin my next four years. I arrived to my college on Freshman Orientation day and the moment I stepped onto that campus, I realized I was not ready. All of these kids, the excitement in their eyes, the constant chatter of, “I’m studying this…” “I’m double majoring…”, they wanted to be there, yet I was counting down the minutes to when I could go to my car and make the 3 hour trek home.

The day I found out my step dad, Greg, had cancer is still etched into my memory. I was in the 7th grade at a basketball game. I was sitting on the bleachers, cheering loudly for our team when my mom came and sat down next to me. Her eyes were bright red and puffy. It was obvious she had been crying so I asked her what was wrong. I remember exactly what she told me, “I need to talk to you. It’s about Greg; He has cancer.” Short and simple, straight to the point. Who knew three little sentences could change your whole life? I definitely didn't.

“Ya son las Cinco y media,” is what my dad would say to me everyday during summer. We would go up to Redlands to this avocado groove to pick avocados. Under the big, tall, leafy trees we would work until our bodies couldn't take it anymore and needed a break. We would work under the hot scorching sun, our faces dripping in sweat until 3:30. I would always get home tired knowing the same thing was waiting for me the next day.

Toss in the jeans, a pair of church clothes, a t-shirt, and don’t forget the tooth brush. Another trip to dads is on the horizon. But before I can do that I must make it through 5:30 a.m. basketball practice, a College Biology test, a Government essay, a CTSO Executive lunch meeting, and all the while take care of my fake baby for Child Development.

“La la la!” I was running around my room dancing to Kidz Bop on Pandora. My blonde hair half up half down.

The past two days there has been a lot going on, so I’m going to combine them into one entry.

The snow dyed red from blood as my dad laid unresponsive,with a laceration to the head, while I looked at him in shock because I didn’t know what had happened. A minute and a half had gone by and the scene was crowded by a dozen red jackets with reflective white crosses on their backs. About seven minutes later there was no trace that anything had ever happened. I had just witnessed a first response team take my dad down the mountain in a toboggan at the speed of a racer. I realized how if everything had not occurred the way it did I might not have my dad today. Ever since that moment I realized how much I want to help people in distress and possibly save lives. Now I find myself only a few months away from having a cross of my own on my

My father was born on December 15, 1950, in Da Nang, a sleepy city located in Central Vietnam. His mother, my grandma, died when he was very little, so growing up, it was just him and his dad (my grandpa). Hearing my dad tell stories of him and Grandpa together brought to light just how much my grandpa meant to Dad. Every principle that Dad has taught me, he has learned from Grandpa. Sadly, that relationship was short-lived; my grandpa died when Dad was in high school. From the day his dad died to his high school graduation, Dad moved in with his uncle and his uncle’s family. Being the oldest member of his uncle’s children, Dad often had to take care of his cousins, juggling schoolwork with home responsibilities. The death of his parents so early in his life and the added responsibility of looking after his cousins meant that Dad had to grow up fast. In the time where most kids his age were exploring their surroundings and not having a care in the world, Dad was hard at work: tackling schoolwork and domestic chores at once. He tells me he had little time for sleep. After making sure all his cousins were in bed, Dad often stayed up until 3 in the morning, immersing himself in schoolwork. Then he would sleep until 6, and the day would repeat itself. Dad’s situation was not uncommon in Vietnam. Society in Vietnam expects the oldest male child in a family to carry the brunt of the workload among siblings: the one to help out the parents. They expected the child to juggle many

A time when I faced a challenge was when my mother and father separated. I was around seven years old,so I don’t remember exactly when they broke up. Unfortunately,my mother never told me the reason why she left my father. After that my mother and father and mother set up visitation days. I would go to my father’s house, which was his mother’s house, on Tuesdays, Thursdays, every other Friday and weekend. I would would be with my mom on Monday, Wednesday, and the Fridays when I was with her on the weekend. Being the naive little child I was, I thought that it was normal for children’s parents to have separate houses. I started to realize how wrong my thoughts were around the age of 10. I would see my friend’s parents together and wonder why my mother and father weren’t like that. My suspicions were confirmed when I interrogated my mother about it. She told me they weren’t talking to each other anymore.

The environment in which I was raised was very thrilling. My family and close friends have had such an impact on my life and I’ll always be so grateful for them. They are very encouraging and always keep an open mind. I’ve learned so much within my seventeen years of life. As I’ve been growing up they’ve helped me realize that It’s okay if it's not right just keep moving and don't take the melancholy parts of life too hard, always learn to be and have a sanguine attitude. They’re always proud of me no matter what I do or who I am.

The hardest time in a person's life is often following the death of a close family member. Death is hard, losing someone you love and see on a daily basis causes great grief and sorrow. For me that special person I lost was my Dad. My father died when I was twelve and it was no doubt the hardest time of my life. Our relationship was indescribable I was his little buddy and we went absolutely everywhere together, and when he died it was like he just disappeared from my life forever. As a young boy you really do not know how to react to such a terrible situation. Neil Ibrahim a father of four dies young and it's just you and your brother left to carry the family name. Throughout the grieving process one learns who really cares about his or hers well being and the upbringing of their children without a father, losing your father makes you more responsible and a more humble person because you are all they left behind.