My Father And My Mother

All families are distinctive, but several have several of the same qualities. After watching the television show, Parenthood, I discovered that my family is a lot like one of the families in the show, the Bravermans. Both families are similar and one example is that we take on an appearance of having it all together, when in reality we are extremely dysfunctional. Not to mention, we are comparable in ways that the characters from the show resemble members of my family, and how both families respond to tragedy. Seeing connections to another family are constant reminders for me that we are all analogous in some way, shape, or form.

My father drives on and not a word is said as we journey through the bitter and cold dark of the night. Shrouds of fog consume us as the truck pushes onward. My father strong and wise is one way of describing him, always providing great advice when it comes to making life choices. My father towers over others and he uses his height to his advantage when it comes to his job. Cutting down trees is how he makes a living and provides for his family, but due to the low pay his job isn’t always safe. My father and his work friends leave home at day-break and venture off into the heart of the woods where danger surrounds their every move. My father has come home in the past quite dampened, seeing this I was curious and remember hiding around the corner and listening in on the confession he had made. He told my mother that one of his close friends that he has known for countless years was mauled by a brown bear when out in the

When I was born my parents and I lived with my dad’s parents. My dad and grandfather worked together and everything was great until they started to disagree on things. Eventually, things got worse and my parents wouldn’t speak to my grandparents. My parents at this time had my brother and thought it would be best if we moved out and got our own house. The problem was, however, that because I had spent so much time living in my grandparents house, they didn’t want me to leave. The ended up taking my parents to court.

My mother was my primary caregiver throughout all of my childhood. While my father was in the picture for a majority of my childhood, he was also a severe alcoholic which greatly impacted my upbringing. My rules, obligations, and expectations were not always set in stone and did often depend on the time, situation, and/or mood of my parents. I think it is normal for parents to differ slightly in their parenting styles occasionally. As a young kid I remember my sister and I being very aware that the mood my mother was in greatly contributed to the outcome of a question or event. I think most, if not all of us can relate to this. Overall however, I would say that my mother had an authoritative parenting style. My mother made is very clear that she was the parent and in charge, however she was welcoming and understanding enough that I felt comfortable coming to her with questions or problems. My mom was also very encouraging and supportive. She always pushed me to do my best but never made me feel bad if I did not reach my goals. I was lucky to have such a great relationship with my mom, not everyone does. As a young teenager I had many friends who would come to me with questions and concerns because they knew my mom was so open-minded and understanding. My mom was always my parent first and my friend second. I knew what was expected of me and I was disciplined for bad behavior, however I always knew I could go to her with anything I needed.

“Work hard, never give up, and most importantly, always stay humble and kind”, these are just a few words my father would say to me when he had the chance or felt that I needed to hear that. My mother would say, “Mickey, as long as you believe in yourself, you can do anything”. To this day, I live my life through proverbs, quotes, and advice from a variety of people. I am very family-oriented. Most of the things I do is in hopes that I can augment some type of valuable contribution to my family and others. To begin to tell my story, I will first start by talking about the people who had the biggest influence on my life.

Losing a loved one is never easy. There will be pain and heartache. There will be Days where you do not want to get out of bed in the morning, and days where you just feel angry. I know when my family was struggling with the Loss of my baby brother, though he was just a few days old, it was unquestionably heartbreaking. Seeing my mom in the depressed state that she was in made me cling to her and I refused to leave her side for a long time after his passing. I know that I am not in your exact situation, and I will never fully understand, but I hope that I can provide at least some kind of comfort in this time of loss that you and your family are experiencing.

“Hello, do you want to be my friend?” Wow, what a childish thing to say. Nevertheless, it was from my mouth in which these words came out of. I remember constantly saying this exact line to almost everyone I know, and the response I got was always something similar to a smile and “of course”, what happens after this is playing for hours on end and departing when our parents dragged us home. That was how I lived my childhood, making new friends wherever I go and ending everyone with separation due to our parents. During those times, I would be so annoyed with my mom, dragging me home every time we started to have fun. I now realize it was because we were a mess, covered in dirt and due to the fun we were having we didn’t even realize it was raining. But when I had realized this care that my parents had for me it was too late, my parents had divorced and I was left with my dad.

As a little kid I have always saw my family come together at the dinner table at the end of the day and really get together and talk about all the gossip and what things still have to be done. That was the routine and I thought it was something we were always going to do till we die but I was wrong. As sad it is to admit that good things never last it seems like this was something I came to realize was slowly but surely dying off in tradition. So who is to blame the parents, children, or the industries and society because fast food easy and quick didn’t require a homemade meal so there is less time spent at home, in the kitchen, and at the dining table with your family.

There are things more important than money in life. As the days pass by, someone dies or is born. There are some who live their lives with nowhere to call home.Dreaming of having a place to sleep and eat and be comfortable at. There are some who live their lives, knowing that the next day they won’t be able to wake up. Hoping that they get to stay alive another day to feel the warmth of the sunshine on their face, to smell the freshly made breakfast, and to be healthy again. And there are those who live their lives with no family, dying to know how it feels to be embraced by your parents. Some people never experienced having a family. Some people, including kids were never able to stay healthy. And some people never experienced what a roof on top of their heads would be like. I am thankful to have a home where I feel secure. I am thankful to be in a healthy condition. I am thankful to have a family.

Family was a word that made me feel like an empty bag, drifty down the wind, not having a clue about . It was a word I heard a lot, my family this and my family that, people I was surrounded with had a family to be with but I didn't have no family here to even spend time with. Sometimes when I heard people talk about their family, I would day dream and imagine how my family was like, what did they like to do and go to family reunions, how many people were in my family, were there some in my family characteristics that I shared with them or were there others that were totally different from mine. I would think what was my mom and dad's side like, what was different about them. All these questions I had floated in my head and left me wondering out for years. Whenever people asked about my family, I would just want to blast off, miles away to my destination and meet them, then land back to the conversion and tell them about my family.

My life was stereotypical. A mom, a dad, a brother, and a dog. A nuclear family was what it was. House with a white picket fence. My days consisted of being in my fantasy world. Where stuffed animals were pets and they had their own little families. Where I spent hours finding creepy crawlies in the woods. Where watching my dad’s favorite show was considered quality time. But that fence was only an illusion. Like many other families, that white fence kept in more than just the family dog. It contained the secrets and lies. It hid the reputation of an unfaithful father. It created an illusion of unity within our family.

Family is one of the most important parts of life. When you have a piece of that missing, you always wonder what could be different. When I was little i always looked up to my uncles and my best friend was my papa. I wanted to do everything with them but because of my uncle’s job in the armed forces we didn’t see him as much as we liked but that made our time together even better. I would go everywhere with my papa and when my cousins were in North Carolina I wanted to do everything with them. I didn’t know that our family tree was just a little more complicated than I thought. It was something that would affect me forever.

The make-up of my family was our parents, two boys and four girls, of which I was the youngest. It was a Christian based home, where my father was strict but, my mother was the nurturer in the family. In my eyes, my mother was awesome because she had such inner, spiritual and physical strength, and although both parents played a big part in our spiritual instruction, the memory of her example of faithful prayer and dependence on God’s strength, impacted me the most.

As a fourth generation Irish citizen, my family emigrated from Ireland to the United States in approximately 1870, during the post-famine wave of Irish immigration. During this time, more females came to the new land without the fetters of a husband, seeking a better future for herself and marrying a man of whom has established himself in the U.S. In the case of my family, my great grandmother traversed the Atlantic on her own terms in search of a higher standard of living and ultimately an opportunity for advancement, marrying an established Irish man in Baltimore, eventually moving north to Philadelphia, where she and my great grandfather raised my grandmother and her four brothers. Interestingly enough, my great grandmother’s story is similar to that of many female Irish immigrants of her time.

Every year me and my dearest family and beloved friends would embark on a journey to my long deceased Uncle’s manor.My uncle died in the year 1867 at the age of eighty, the doctors never quite understood how he died but when he was found the maid said that he was holding a picture of tree which stood in the house gardens.However this picture was never seen after the maid put it on the mantelpiece after his death, nor the tree.