Personal Narrative: My Father

Growing up I was extremely close to my father. He was always a tough guy to please, and I aspired to impress him and be the daughter he wanted me to be. Little did I know, my father would end up breaking my heart, and be responsible for tearing my family apart.

Ever since I was a little girl, I always loved going to work with my Dad. My Dad is the fleet owner of a trucking company in Cabot, AR. I remember when we would pull into the truck yard and take inventory of the 18-wheelers and trailers left on the yard.

you lived a perfect live, worked hard througout school and been a faithful christian you whole life. you were respectful and grateful as a kid and never took anything for granted. you have worked your whole adult life on being the perfect father and dont think you could have done any better. you read the scripture every day and work extremely hard to provide for our family. you never yell or raise you voice and always keep your cool. you manage to bring scripture into punishing us. you struggled early on in your marraige just to put aside money to put us through college. i have done nothing to deserve it. you have been the perfect husband to mom. never fighting and always compromising to make her feel like she should feel. you are so

Open heart surgery can be real painful on a family, just as it is to the person having it. My father had to undergo this procedure, and might have to undergo it again. This was a devasting time for my family and myself. This occurred almost two years ago.

"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.

One bright early morning on the field of the 2015 Annual Wiffle Ball Championship laid the bright golden trophy next to the pitcher's mound. The sun glared at the trophy in joy leaving the bright beams of light reflecting into the eyes of the players. As I was on the field I heard the loud smashing voice of the opponent's team line-up harshly told by the coach. By the sound of his voice he seemed determined to win the trophy. I then turned to look at my dad playing 3rd and he said with a soft voice ¨be patient¨. At the time I was eager to get a hold of the wiffle ball. Finally the inning was over. As I went back to

My dad is driving all the way to Minnesota to get a motorcycle. At least, that’s what I thought. He woke me and my brother up and showed us a picture of a motorcycle. To be honest, I thought that was what we were actually getting because we didn’t have any suitcases so it wasn’t a surprise vacation. I didn’t know we were getting a kitten. I did ask for one more than 5 times. My mom did show me a picture of a kitten that was ready to be adopted. Ok, I’m finished talking.

Well, if you'll pardon my saying so, I guess it is interesting, the many ways you and I overlap and whatnot. You begin with our Daddies. Your daddy was a pastor of the New Hope Baptist Church; my daddy was a pastor of a church at Excelsior Springs. Um. You're the youngest of the three James boys; I'm the youngest of the five Ford boys. Between Charley and me, is another brother, Wilbur here, with six letters in his name; between Frank and you was a brother, Robert, also with six letters. Robert is my Christian name. You have blue eyes; I have blue eyes. You're five feet eight inches tall. I'm five feet eight inches tall. Oh me, I must've had a list as long as your nightshirt when I was twelve, but I've lost some curiosities over the years.

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.

I remember when my Dad and I were at my old house playing catch. After we would finish playing catch he would tell me what I need to work on and help me out. My Dad helps out a lot of people, like his patients. He is a very skilled eye doctor and helps many people everyday. He is also a very good athlete, ever since he was a kid to a grown man.

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.

I grew up being the first ever kid to “not have a dad.” My classmates questioned me in ignorance, wondering how I was ever created without a father of my own. This is because I was taught by those around me, at the young age of six, to always reply “I don’t have one,” when asked, “Where’s your dad?”

I was in like 7th or 8th grade. One night, my mom comes and asks to pack for a night and get my shoes on. I ask her where we’re going. She wouldn’t tell me, so I didn’t get ready to go anywhere. Then my dad comes down and they start arguing. Earlier that day, my dad had drank like 2 beers while me and him were cleaning out our garage. We were going through some cabinets and there were bottles of alcohol in one. My dad took them inside to hide them inside because her and one of her friends had gotten drunk one night and her friend hit his head and fell down his steps. So as he was carrying them inside, my dad dropped one of the bottles and it fell down our step. Luckily it didn’t break. My dad and brother were arguing over something earlier

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

I heard a loud yell as I stepped off the last step off the bus. It was 4:02pm and I had just gotten back from school. “Emily, come here! Hurry!” It was my dad. 1 million things raced through my head as I heard the loud yell. Was he hurt? Was someone else hurt? Living on a farm, with animals and machinery, you generally don’t think of anything good when you hear yelling.