My Personal Experience : My Experience With My Father

Learning that my dad had decided to move out and divorce my mother came as a huge surprise to my family, no one saw it coming. My mother and I fell into the grasp of depression. She lost so much weight dropping down to 110-115 lbs., her face lacked color and her body was so frail. She would force a smile when my sister was around but I recognized the pain in her eyes because I felt it too. I found myself suppressing my emotions so that I would come off as OK, so that my mom wouldn’t have to worry about me, so that my sister didn’t realize that

“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.

When I was younger about 12 maybe 13 years old I could tell you many wonderful things about my parents. They would always talk to one another, have smiles on their faces, they were practically joined by the hip. It was very rare for them to argue. However when they did argue things always got ugly. My mother would be crying for hours and my father would leave the house and not return for days on end. It came to no surprise when it surfaced that my father was cheating on my mother during those days. After that, the household dynamic shifted drastically. My mother became the breadwinner of the house while my father began doing less and less. Ultimately, my mother and father decided to separate. Looking back now, I can understand why they were

During the process of my parent’s divorce, I experienced many things I never expected. I blankly watched my dad move all of his belongings out of our house, saw my mom come home sobbing, and was forced to attend family therapy sessions. At first I had a difficult time adjusting; I felt depressed and lackadaisical, I wanted to give up. But I soon realized my parent’s situation was completely out of my control, and I decided to take charge of my own life. I learned the significance of independence and responsibility. My mom had her own troubles to deal with and my dad wasn’t around so I had to figure things out for myself, as well as my younger sister.

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

During my parents ' divorce, I had learned things no eighth grader should need to know about my parents relationship. The way I viewed my dad changed dramatically based on his efforts to maintain a relationship with me and my sister and his mental health. When I was about to start my freshman year in high school, my dad had officially lost all hope of trying to redevelop a relationship with me. We had family out from his side to celebrate my sister, Olivia’s, communion. To me, it seemed like everything was fine and there was no tension between anyone, however at the end of the ceremony my mom was left in tears and everyone was upset after my dad had yelled at the priest, causing a scene, then leaving the church.

It was a hot and humid afternoon as my family and I stepped out of the airplane and walked towards the immigration line. A reunion was planned a year in advance for my mother and father’s golden anniversary. Their wish was for the whole family to come together from different parts of the globe to celebrate for a few weeks. As we stood and waited at the long line to enter our homeland, I imagined how much it had changed since I last stepped foot back home. We came home in 1992. I already imagined the food I planned to eat, the places I planned to see, and the people I hadn’t seen for some time. It felt nostalgic. I felt a rush of excitement.

My dad was seventeen and my mom was fourteen when they got together. Both of them were really young with no knowledge of marriage. My dad has a history of alcoholism and my mom did not question my dad’s authority. My parents had an authoritarian-parenting style, they had high expectations for me and my siblings, but showed us little or no support. My mom was very strict, overprotective and demanding, and my dad always reminded us that we have to do good in school or else he would make us work. I grew up being afraid more of mom instead of my dad. My dad was never home, he always worked and provided for us. My brothers couldn’t join any sports or any school programs because my mom expects us to be home right

5. My father holds the biggest impact in my life. You will hardly ever see him angry. He is a hard worker. He and my mother provide for the family. He takes extra shifts so we have money for “just in case”scenarios. My father when i think of a true dad, he will always pop up in my head. He is the stereotypical father. If something needs to get done he is the guy to go to. I can talk to him about anything. He has brought me up to be a gentleman. When my mother was having my sister I hardly saw my dad. Being young at the time i didn’t understand, but being older now, I now realize he worked everyday taking up extra hours so when my mom needed something the money would be there for her. He is a true man.

Ever since I was young, I thought I wanted to graduate from high school then go straight to working for my dad and his roofing company. I had helped my dad multiple times on the sites of his projects and I knew it would be easiest and safest route plus I’m already good at it. When I hit my junior year of high school my parents dropped a bomb on me, I had to get a college degree before I could work for my dad. I was very upset about this because I realized how much harder and longer I had to work. When they told me that I thought I would go to an easy college, major in business, and then go to work for my dad, but I decided that it would be in my best interest to major in something I love, history. My mom and grandpa influenced this

I remember when I was young, I loved fishing with my Grandfather because he was an amazing man who always cared for his family. It was one of the most exciting things I did as a kid because I felt like I was bonding with my grandfather. He was always fun to be around when he made jokes, played around, and taught me life lessons. Reeling in fishes was an accomplishment for me and my grandfather even if it was just one, we found it as if we did something great together. I remember sitting in the boat with him one Saturday morning as we were waiting to catch a fish. The weather was chilly 55 degrees as I recall. He was wearing his same old fishing gear [black rain boots with old 49ers hat and a white tee shirt with dark blue pants]. The sun was barely rising and I felt amazing, the scenery was beautiful I could see the orange/redness light of the sun rising. The boat was an old boat, but I could tell because of the green fading away on both sides, wasn’t to big ether just enough to fit 3 adults and the motor looked as if it was worn out. When I was there I didn’t understand why the fishes weren’t biting, I was contemplating if the worms were good. As the time passed me and my grandfather didn’t say much, I felt odd by it because we usually spoke, but this time I could feel it was different. I could not understand why he was so quiet, and as I was about to speak my grandfather told me” Bryan as you get older there’s morals you must stick with”, I

One day my mom told me that my family and I were going to China. I was very young, about 6, and I really didn’t know what to expect. At the time, I remember feeling a rush of mixed emotions. I felt excited, unsure, and maybe even a little scared, but there was one thing I knew I could look forward to, and that was meeting my grandparents for the first time.

When I was eight years old my parents separated, and they got officially divorced when I was twelve. After my parents separated, my mother took on being a single-parent. My father gave up all his rights to my sister and I. Prior to my parents separating, my family was considered upper-middle class. My dad worked as a computer engineer, and my mom was a stay at home mother. After my parents split, my sister and I went from having everything to nothing in a day. My mom had to move back in with her parents until she could find a full-time job and a place for us to live. Because I have seen my mother struggle as a single-mother, I matured a lot faster than most children my age. Even though we struggled with money growing up, my mother always made it a point to go on vacation yearly with my sister and I; I have been to over 30 states because my mom loves to road trip. Additionally, it has always been a family tradition of ours to go to the state fair every year. Because of my family experience growing up, I am very independent. I also learned to appreciate the little things in life. My mom always taught my sister and I that time spent with family is far more valuable than materialistic things. My mother and I are very close to this day, and I will forever be grateful for everything she has done for my sister and me.

Yet for all our fantasies and vivid imaginations, none of us could really satisfactorily imagine how he looked — not until one afternoon when the wind from the west began its piercing song, and the convulsing dust covered rooftops and the west skies turned a crimson red. As I was ready to leave our back alley and flee the horror of the red sky, Martin appeared in the alley with a whirlwind of dust dancing about him. He was awfully small — much smaller than any of us had ever imagined him to be. And when I saw how thin he was, I thought to myself how very appropriate was the rhyme we had created. Not only was he small, but he was unbelievably skinny. Yet, strangely enough, right in the middle of this thin and frail body was an enormous