My Life Of My Father

It all began with a simple phone call one night after dinner. “Joe,” my dad hollered up the stairs, “it’s for you. It’s Jackie, and she sounds scared.” As I treaded down stairs to pick up the phone, I was nervous. Jackie usually never calls me on the phone unless it’s something serious, and my dad telling me she sounded scared made it worse. Approximately 30 minutes passed at Jackie whips her silver Mustang convertible into our driveway, and Jackie was leaning on the horn before the car came to a complete stop. Grabbing my coat from the couch, I sprinted out my front door faster than i’ve ran in my whole life. I got immediately in her car and we drove away. I’ve never seen Jackie so scared in my life. She was driving at least 20 miles over

I walked into the kitchen and took in the scene before me. An unfamiliar woman stood at the back of the kitchen wearing all black except for a burgundy colored jacket. My father lie still on the tile floor, face-down with a knife in his back. The police say I went into shock after seeing what had happened in the kitchen that night and the images I could remember had been twisted by the horror of what I saw at only nine years old, but I can never forget the words she said to

The next morning, I was dropped off at what at the time we called “dad’s house”. He was making breakfast. Burnt eggs and burnt bacon with probably expired milk. I always graded him with and A for effort. He explained to us that every other day and every other weekend will be spent with our mom. I questioned whether or not that was he wanted, his tone was disappointed. Did he want to see us less? Or more? Or not want our mom to see

I was walking to my house after a long day of school. All day I was waiting for this moment; To see my dog. I walked inside. I saw my dad, which was strange because he was never home. I look around. There was an empty dog bed, covered in brownish-red fur. My sister’s head was in her hands, she was shaking uncontrollably. I turn towards my dad, his eyes filled with pity and sorrow. I set my backpack down and search for my companion. Being the insensitive and ignorant child I was, I ask, “ Where’s Duke?”. My dad glanced at me making direct contact. The words I was about to absorb , were almost deadpan. He replied monotonously, “ He’s gone.”. The only word that can explain how I was feeling was numb. I hadn’t realized the stumble backwards into the wall, or the tears shed, not even the comfort I was trying to be given. Though I thought that this was going

“I just knew you and my oldest daughter had much in common,” said my mother brightly. “I could see the two of you spending hours talking about running her business. Talks of diseases," said her mother, as if overly disgusted as she shook as if cold. “That would be disturbing day after day.”

Have you ever wondered who these people are that keep you safe everyday? My dad was one of them. He was in the Michigan State Police for twenty-seven years. He has helped save the lives of many people.He started working in the MSP even before he met my mom. He eventually married her and was working nights.He worked everynight to protect us. You. Everyone. Every night, when you were asleep, he was out working. Working to protect you. When he had a kid, my brother Logan, he was still working nights. He had to move from place to place, taking his family with him so he could do his job. When something bad happened, he was there to protect you. Even when you wanted to hide in your house and not come out, he was there to protect you. My dad is an amazing person. This is why my dad is my Michigan Hero.

My dad was an alcoholic all my memories consisted of me coming home from my babysitters or school, he would be drunk passed out on the couch with beer bottles everywhere, and nascar on the television.

It had been two weeks since Haley was hit by the taxi driver, her parents were still debating on sueing the taxi driver that ran her over. They had even thought of sueing the company that let a man drive a taxi when he had a past with having seizures a lot. The doctors were getting very concerned, they had done brain surgeries and many other surgeries that were successful and had not caused her to stay in this coma for this long. That’s when the next day Haley awoke from her coma very confused about what had happened those last two

When my parents divorced, I didn’t see my father often. The memories I had of him when I was young were usually pleasant, but very few and far between. Instead, I practically lived at

Led like a convict condemned to a lifetime in prison and flanked by two incredibly capable orderlies and bound with her arms behind her back, the girl radiated raw spite and hatred. She didn’t belong here, not at all. What happened to her was not her fault. She did not ask to by tormented, tortured, abducted, brainwashed, raped, possessed, amongst a nasty amount of other detestable subjugations. And yet, here the girl was, suffering further because so many others had made her suffer. The girl was a survivor, a fighter, an apex predator. She had made it this far, although by the skin of her teeth at certain times. For her entire existence, the girl had been plagued with a darkness she knew all-too-well, a darkness that led her to the conclusion that there was a high probability of her succumbing to it and becoming a villain, grotesquely transforming into the type of evil beings she had fought since her early teens. Ending up either in prison, condemned to death, or simply dead would come to no surprise to her. But being committed to a psychiatric hospital for the most notorious and fucked-up of superhumans? Unfathomable.

In between the two world wars, America suffered from hunger and unemployment. This all happened because of the huge economic crisis, which struck the whole world in 1929. It is not unusual that this type of crisis can lead man into alcoholism and gambling, and quickly, a whole family can be on the edge of destruction.

Dear McKenna : My Mother is divorcing my Dad for an old narcissistic liar of a man.

Years later after realizing she was not the one to blame but instead a victim, she came forward and told her horrid story (112).

Growing up from a family of 4 me being the youngest watched my daddy walk out my life like I wasn’t an option. So, the streets became my father. I did everything under the sun, even made my mam cry. I felt like everybody was out to get me. Family became enemies, friends start to envy the streets had got so hot. All my friends start going to jail so only thing was left for me to leave the hood for a while before I become dead or in jail.

I remember growing up living with my mom, aunt and uncle. I never met my dad or even knew his name, my mom kept me in the dark as to who he was. Growing up was hard because I was always wondering who he was and if he knew about but didn’t want me. Even when I wasn’t conscientiously thinking about it, it was still in the back of my mind lurking in the background just trying to break free and let itself be known.