Family Matters Family isn’t who shares the same blood. Family isn’t who you’re related to. Family isn’t who birthed you. Family isn’t who you share a house with. Family isn’t in the blood. Family is the people who would shed blood for you, no matter what. My dad, he doesn’t share the same blood as me. He wasn’t there holding my mother’s hand when her emotions were awoken by the sound of her first born, a girl, being swaddled in blankets and handed over to her embrace. He hasn’t lived in the same house as me for over more than two years, but he is family and I couldn’t be more proud to call him “Dad”. I remember all the awful times when my parents were together. Mom worked the night shift and had to study for college during the day. She didn’t have just four kids to take care of at the same time; it was more like five. Father sat in his red sued chair and watched his seventy-two inch flat screen television closer than he watched my baby sister, Alyssa, crawl on the floor. Babysitting became my job while mom cooked, cleaned, studied, and did laundry. I watched Alyssa, Dalton, and Camden, my three siblings at that time. Mom was great and I truly believed she was a superhero. I didn’t really like Father though. I got used to only getting a few hours of sleep every night because I would quietly sob in my room while I heard my father talk down to my mom about how she didn’t get all of the laundry done or complain about how awful dinner tasted. I never saw Father raise a hand at
Going back forty-five years is not an easy task to complete because I can’t remember some of the finer details of my childhood. I know I was born on a hot August afternoon in Birth Year at Place Of Birth in City ands State. My mother was just twenty-two at the time and was already the mother of two, I was her third child. My father was twenty-one and already a workaholic, I know because my mother would constantly remind me not to be like that. My mother and father were good parents and they tried to give us the best upbringing they could. My father was the kind of person that believed he should provide and protect his family, and he did a very good job of doing that.
As a kid I only got to see my dad on the weekends and those were the best days I had, I never understood why I couldn't live with my father full time because my mom never lived a stable life. My mother wasn’t as bad as it seems, she always made sure we had food and somewhere to stay even if it wasn't the greatest, even living with my mom my dad still paid for almost everything I had. When I was about 8 years old I lived in Mccomb and it was my dads weekend and I was so excited to get off of school and go see him, When I got home I was shocked to find everything packed up and my mom told me to get in the car, I was so upset to find out that me, my two brother, and her and her boyfriend were off to Florida. The whole trip to Florida I balled my eyes out and all I remember was that I kept saying that I wanted to live with my dad and that I hated my mom, I wondered how she could just up and leave without telling my
Even six year old me could see the great suffering my father experienced not only mentally but physically. I recall once walking in the bathroom and seeing my father vomit, it was the first time I seen him so vulnerable. I could see the pain in his eyes. It was our third month in the united states and my father could not find a job, it was killing him. He was considering a job as a dishwasher to support his family, for that I could never repay him. A sprinkle of hope glimmered in our dark world when my dad got a job as a dispatcher at a local Airport, when I look back now I wonder if father ever felt disappointed that his hard nights of studying in college was futile, if he know that he would have to give up his career to support his family. Soon we moved out of my aunt and uncle’s how’s into a small one bedroom apartment in a sketchy neighborhood. By that time my mother has lost a total of thirty pounds. The once vibrant and sociable women was always tired, she often made called relatives back home which resulted in her crying for hours. My father would often cook and clean, it was fascinating to see my dad performing these tasks
Family is typically seen as something that is defined by genetics and the idea that blood is what makes a family. This could not be less true. In today’s society family should not be defined by the blood that runs through your veins or your last name, it should be the amount of love that exudes from your heart. Whether you were born into a family, adopted or in the foster care system, your family members are the ones who you share moments of love and joy with, not just a last name.
I remember a time when life felt whole, I was young, I spent whole summers with my Father in Oregon and I’d come home to a fresh scented home with my Mother and Step Father, It seemed that whenever I came back, my Mom had just cleaned the house, it made me feel special in a way. I used to have friends come over frequently, but they were family friends rather than the people I went to school with, these friends understood me, they were real. It was a simpler time where I could be weird and not have to worry about acceptance. When I was about eleven or twelve years old, my Mother sat my brother and I down at the table. When she uttered the word divorce, my brother burst into tears, yet I remained stone cold, I guess I had seen it coming, I knew
All families experience their share of good times and bad times, I can remember so many wonderful times. Obviously, there were bad times, my parents fought a lot of the time too. I can remember being snuggled in bed, dreaming of lollipops and cotton candy gum drops, only to be woken by the sound of faint arguing through the walls; I never did let them know I heard. There were several occasions I can recall being scoped into my mother’s arms and packed into the car, we were running to my grandma’s house. It always went the same way in these situations, we would arrive at my grandma’s, my father would come and speak to my mother, and then we would go home again. I never really understood it; It was my first lesson in adulthood,doing things
I was just a toddler, when life was waiting for me in the near future. I was a daddy’s girl, and spent every second I could with my father. We were inseparable, as I was attached to either his blue jeans or Car Hart jacket. We did everything together. As for with my mother, I was too young to see through the struggle and unhappiness of her kind, beautiful eyes. It didn’t make any sense to me.
“Family isn’t whose blood you carry. It’s who you love and who loves you back.” - Unknown. When I first read this quote, I finally realized what family truly is. Family is something that goes beyond the blood that’s coursing through your veins. Family is something that you can’t see, it’s something that you feel. When you’re comfortable with someone that you are with and they are comfortable with you and you can be yourself around them, that is family. Your family is that secret shadow behind you that you can’t see, but is always there to help you back up when you fall down.
I grew up in a very poor neighborhood hood, so everyday for me was difficult not knowing if I will eat or sleep on the streets. I can remember the moment where my father abandoned my mother and I. I was very young at the time I had just turned 7 years old. My father and mother had a very unhappy relationship it was very easy to tell they were not happy. I remember it was a Monday, November 4, 2002 my mother was staying with my aunt because my aunt was diagnosed with cancer and my mother was helping her out. It was my birthday I was so excited that day because I was suppose to get a gift from my father. I woke up that morning ran quickly to his room to find him not there, I ran outside thinking he was fixing his car or just rebuilding the birdhouse
It had been two month since I decided to live with my dad after his divorce. Actually, I’d never want them to break apart. I loved both much. But, I didn’t know what on their mind. Parents sometimes were complicated just like childish. I inhaled deep breathe for many times and I really didn’t know for how many, and once again I saw my dad kept an eye one me. But I didn’t care, not really care. I hated this situation so much. I missed my mom.
According to the textbook, family is defined as a self-defined group of intimates who create and maintain themselves through their own interactions and their interactions with others. (West & Turner, Cengage Learning) To me family members don’t always have to be who you’re related to by blood. I have some friends I consider family because they have been through everything with me. I have some friends who don’t get along with their parents, and consider their friends and their friends families a family to them. The textbook definition doesn’t say that family is defined by blood, just that you must have an intimate relationship with them. If you are adopted you might resent your birth parents and not consider them family, and you might consider
Although family means different things to different people. To me, family isn’t who is blood related, but who is always there for you. According to Jagger and Wright from Erera’s article “What is Family?”, “The groupings that are called families are socially
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
It didn't help that I faced just as many distractions at home, as my parents began having problems with their relationship. My dad was the type of father who would stand me up on his feet when I was little and dance around the kitchen. A tall, strong, African American man who stood on the couch trapped when my hamster got loose. My dad taught me to cook and walked me to school every morning. Soon enough, he wasn't that person anymore. I came home from school one day and sat at the dining room table ready to do my homework. I desperately tried to focus as my father followed my mother past me through the house. He screamed at her, stopping to tell me to never be like her. I was terrified as I watched him hold each end of my mom’s flip phone and break it in half, throwing it to the ground. That night I couldn't do my homework until after I went shopping with my mom to get herself a new cell phone. Luckily, soon after that my mother and I moved out. We didn't have much so we lived at my aunt’s house, sleeping on the living room floor. I was just happy to finally be able to work in peace.
The concept of family is every member having a special roll. Weather it be daugter or dad, they are still important. David Ogden Stiers quotes, “Family means no one is left behind or forgotten.”