Narrative Essay About My Father

Many people have ways of influencing others. Most people use words to affect other people. An amount of individuals would utilize their gift of persuasion to convince others of their causes or maybe arguments, while some use authority to force people to do as they are told. These several differences can apply to fathers as well. Not all fathers are similar when it comes to educating their children. Many are gentle, while some are more dominant. Randy T Caldwell, a somewhat young spirited middle aged man. Dark skinned with black Gucci frames to accommodate his big brown eyes. Standing 5’11, board shoulders, happy, loving, man of

One event that defined a part of my life that involved literacy was when I had to write a

Annoyed at this, I turned once again and lay on my back. I took a deep

The most traumatic event in my life was when my father passed away in 2005, when I was only seven. At first, I hadn’t understood his death. I knew what death was, and that it was permanent, but I hadn’t accepted the fact that he was gone until long after his death. My mother was a mess, and I was a confused second grader who could do nothing to help her. We began to go to counselors and psychologists, who all made me feel very uncomfortable. All they wanted was to talk about what had happened to my dad, when it was the last thing I wanted to say anything about. I laid in bed crying for a few weeks, knowing it was because of his death, but I felt emptiness rather than sadness or anger. My mother began to take medication for depression, and still continues to do so. At only seven, I believed her sadness was my fault. To be honest, I still feel hurt when I see her taking the depression medication. I know that I had nothing to do with his death, but it granted me with an unwelcoming sense of guilt. I had just been with him the night before his death, and now he had been cremated into a bag of ashes. All of my teachers were very precautious about mentioning him, and I didn’t know how to process all the new attention I had received at school. I was definitely depressed, but I found a way out of my slump. I distracted myself from his death and did all of my school work from my absences as quickly as I could, and

Due to economic circumstances and my father's alcohol abuse, my family suffered from family problems and emotional pain. My father would come home drunk and argue with my mother about our economic circumstances. I was too young to understand what was occurring between my parents and I grew up believing that this was the typical family. I remember a specific occasion when my dad came home and he said that he was tired of us. He left my mom with my three siblings and I without money and anywhere to go. This situation terrified me and caused me to focus in school to forget about my personal problems. I could not understand how my father could leave us and not care for us. We then lived in someone's garage because we could not afford a home. Throughout

Have you ever had a hero in your life, someone that is always there for you when you need them? I did, I called him "my dad." My dad was the only person that could make me laugh when I was feeling down. My dad was that person who had so much love for his family. My dad was the person who I could call and he'd always pick up. My dad was the person who would drop everything just to help me. My dad was the biggest hero in my life and to this day, still is.

My father is profoundly wise in the topic of athletics. He knows more ways to get stronger, faster, or even more flexible than anyone I have ever encountered. Putting this knowledge with my determination, we made a rigorous workout plan that we would do at home every single night. One note to make, is that my dad was not forcing me to do these workouts in any way. He asked me if I still wanted soccer to be as exhilarating as it was when I was younger, then I needed to put the time in to my craft every day. Soccer is in my blood, and I was not ready to give it up yet. The workouts were composed of mile runs on the treadmill, medicine ball exercises, and leg strengthening drills. After the preliminary week of this aspiring effort to to achieve

My father passed away in 1991, two weeks before Christmas. I was 25 at the time but until then I had not grown up. I was still an ignorant youth that only cared about finding the next party. My role model was now gone, forcing me to reevaluate the direction my life was heading. I needed to reexamine some of the lessons he taught me through the years.

Our parents began arguing a lot. We were going through a financial crisis. My mother had gambling issues, which I did not know then. The first time I saw my father cry was when my mother got involved in a car accident. She survived but her left leg was not able to function as it was before. It is difficult for her to run and the pain returns from time to time. She remained bedridden for a while and I could see her getting depressed everyday not being able to go anywhere. The second time I saw my father cry was when his sister’s husband passed away in a car accident. I did not understand what was happening at the time, they gave me the phone to talk to her but she was just sobbing. Both my parents were tearing up while me and my brother were just confused and sad because everyone was crying.

After moving a countless amount of times, my home does not have a roof and windows. My home has become my biggest motivator- my father. I am one of the few, lucky people to be born into and privileged with such a small, but loving family. Not only has my father provided me with a life I can thrive in, the story of his life in China is what gives me the confidence to pursue a career in the medical field. At his high school, he studied every day for more than nine hours and became the top student, despite the fact that his future in education seemed bleak because of the Cultural Revolution. Getting a higher education was his dream, yet illegal. After succeeding in high school, he was forced by the government to attend a labor camp, where he

“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.

"Never forget the past…because it may haunt you forever. Regret all the bad things…cherish the good things. Look ahead always…but don't let the bad things from the past get in your mind." As a young child, there were so many incidents in my life that made me become the person I am today. There were rough times as well as good times. If I were to tell you all of them, I would remember half of them. I think some of my incidents really had some impact, and some were just simple ways of life. To tell you the truth, the incident that had the most impact on me has to be when my real father left me at the age of three. I never knew my father. I mean being a baby, you really have no experience or recognition of somebody else.

I have an abundance of grotesque, yet, barely visible memories of childhood. However, no breathtaking family trips, no unique family togetherness that taught a moral lesson, no abnormal holidays. We still ate family meals together, but most often the children and adults lived in different worlds. When I needed comforting or wanted the best of both worlds, I could turn to my Grandpa.

What is the definition of a perfect father? Someone would say it is a man who goes to their child’s baseball games, dance recitals or theatrical plays. A man who attends all family outings as if it is their duty. A man who showers their child in love and affection. A man who apologizes for his faults when they occur. My father was not described this way. My father is known for leaving his two young children and wife to serve his consequence in jail for five years. It was as if one minute he was there reading me as story and the next he was gone. I had the chance of living a normal life as some people would call it with both my parents, until I was six.

Losing my mother was very traumatising. She was the only parent I knew since the age of three and the one person I knew I could depend on one hundred percent. I was in school when one of my cousin came to inform me that I was to return home immediately. In my gut I knew something serious must have happened to my mother. I do not remember how I got home. When I saw several people crying at my home and nobody was really make eye contact with me, I just started to cry too and that is when someone told me how sorry they were for my loss. I was in shock for more than three days. I did not sleep nor eat and I did not shade single tears after the initial outburst. Basically I just wanted to crawl in a corner and never wake up from the nightmare. However, I had to become an adult and I