My Life Of My Father

I feel like my life would have been somewhat better if my dad was in my life. My dad is a hardworking, extremely determined man. He’s pushed to reach my goals and expect more for myself from a distance, but I strongly believe if he was there every day he would have pushed me so much more to reach my full potential rather than just doing things to get by. My dad has always wanted the best for me, but with him being there, he would have actually made it happen for me to get the best. He could have possibly protected me from the bad things that have happened to me. Although I wish I could go back and change things, I cannot. I do think that if my dad was in my life, it could have been worse than it was. He could have been there, but not actually be there. Resentment definitely would have played a role if my dad was around without really wanting to be there. I try not to think about what could have been though. No one has a perfect life, but I am grateful for the life I was given.

“Prove them wrong” When I was in fourth grade my dad and brother and I were playing basketball at our house, to help my brother practice. I had never played basketball except against my brother, Brayden. My dad would always be our referee and it was a lot of fun. Even though I never beat Brayden. Brayden didn’t think I was very good, and he would have to play easy on me instead of playing as well as he could have played. It really annoyed me I wanted to be as good as him or better because I wanted to actually have a chance to be better than him at one sport.

You know how when your a kid and you dont think anything could go wrong: well thats what I thought and then everything went wrong. Let me start at the beginning though I was born July 1st 1996,i was sort of an unexpected surprise my mother had only wanted one child and she was already planing on leaving my dad when she found out she was pregnant. Not wanting to leave two kids without a father she tried working things out with my father again that only lasted 6months after I was born and mom came back home with her parents with not one but two kids. My grandparents immediately took charge of the situation and helped there single daughter raise her children in doing so they took us in as there children. How you may ask well by they took us in as there children they literally took us in my mom

My father was a lifeguard, but not in my lifetime, so maybe loving the ocean was in our blood. As children we grew up in Brooklyn and we would go to Riis Park for our day at the beach. One very distinct memory is of my father as he stood waist deep in the ocean with my brother and sister; the waves periodically lifted and dropped them in the water at his side. Waist deep for my father meant it was well over my head so I remained a safe distance (or so I thought) behind them. Suddenly, a wave appeared and before I could turn and rush to the shoreline the ocean attacked. I found myself in a world of foam, pockets of air allowed me to breathe as I was tossed about like a wet sock in a dryer. Head over heals I tumbled, my skin scrapped by the crushed sea shells that covered the sand. After what felt like an eternity I found myself on the wet sand as the wave retreated out to sea; I’m pretty sure it laughed and gave me the finger as it left.

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.

I dashed into the brush to find cover, the rain was pelting on my back. It was my first Boy Scout outing and we were playing a game of capture the flag, but the lightning was coming, we all could see it off in the distance.

When I was eight years old, I realized I was slightly different from my dad, but very similar. My dad, and my brother, and I were sitting upstairs in our room and my dad said, “I’m gonna draw something for you guys to guess.” So my brother and I sat there waiting and watched him draw it. My brother and I were interested and what he was drawing and we really liked it. My dad made sure the drawing was well done so we could all guess what it was. He was getting close to the end and me and my brother kept trying to guess it and have fun with it. It took a minute for my brother and I to guess it, but when we finally got it is when I realized I wasn't talented at drawing like my dad and I don't like to draw as much as him. Although I had fun with him, we are very different.

What keeps me up at night is how privileged I am. My father grew up in a very poverty stricken town, Guanajuato. Even though his family owned a great deal of land to cultivate fruits, they were barely able to make ends meet. My Grandma and father would have to wake up at 5 am to walk all the way to the other side of town and then catch a bus to a nearby town, Celaya, to sell what they had harvested. While there, my father would go to a nearby wasteland to find any old toys or clothes others had thrown out. This was a continuous thing until my dad, at the age of 15 decided to come to the United States, with nothing else other than a few extra pairs of raggedy clothes, that he had gotten from the wasteland. My father stayed in Texas to help provide

There we are, Shelly and I, waking up early that Saturday morning to a hustle and bustle of pumping up ring tubes, packing coolers, walking to the store in the blazing heat, and preparing for the days events. Shelly, being a close childhood friend and later girlfriend of my father, Jeremy, we immediately had a close connection to one another. We had arranged to meet at Stout’s beach, this is not the actual name, but it was named that for one of my dad’s friends Jason Stout, and he was also a close childhood friend of my dads. There were so many of my dads friends who came in support of his memory. Many of these people he called friends he had known since he was a small child. The feeling I had greeting his childhood friends

My dad and I were in the car going to our my first organized basketball game. My heart was pounding I was already sweating and I was the most nervous I have ever been in my whole entire life!

It was a cold December night Dad had locked me out of the house it was better than the

When I was in, I think 4th grade and I was playing around and I was called to the office and I didn’t know what for. Was it my dad or mom? Was it someone I didn’t know? Was it just my sister? I had no clue what was about to happen.

Everybody in our family likes to do different things to do. For example, my dad enjoys playing soccer with his brothers and wants to have a cookout after. He was born here in Laredo born and raised, and his name is Javier Quiroga Trevino. He works at a trucking company and has been at it for about fifteen years.

As I walk in, I see my dads old man blowing up what looks like the last green balloon. He’s got smoker lungs, so it looks like he took a while, since there was only one bag. I let him finished and got his inhaler for him. He looks like a grumpy old man, but once you get to know him he’s cool. He’s bald in one spot, just like my dad, and wears big dog t-shirts. He served in the Vietnam war. He’s shorter than most people.

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.