Summary:
Essay discusses my personal feelings regarding my father.
As I stand here today in front of you all I want to tell you about someone who means a great deal to me. He is loving and kind, he listens, suggests, and defends. He has the strength of a mountain, and the wisdom of ages. He loved to tell me stories, he taught me to ride my bike. He surprised me with pink roses. We used to share fudge sundaes and ice cream in a cone. Dads' really do make a huge difference in their daughter's lives. I remember when I use to think my daddy was a supper hero, and that he could do anything. I use to always say, "Daddy, fix it." It wasn't a question, it wasn't a request, it was a statement. And he always tried his hardest to fix whatever needed fixing. Father's really are wonderful people. Working fathers face a unique challenge. He is trying to do it all. Carefully balancing work life with our home life. My father seems to be the one to pay the bills, while mother binds up the little hurts. My father struggles daily to live up to "his image" as the protector, provider, and hero. Perhaps that's why my father doesn't seem to be emotional. But, if you look deep down in his heart, you will find that he's sentimental and "soft". But, he's too busy to prove that, because he's too caught up everyday in the race of life. That's the only reason my dad aspires to fortune and success, to make his family proud of him, and bring us happiness.
There are times when it seems I need him most, when he seems like the only person who could stop my tears, mend my broken heart, make things better, to tell me everything will be alright, or even when I just need someone to comfort me, he's not there. He's busy working. My dad in technical terms would be known as a workoholic. I know that he regrets times choosing work over these things. And at certain times I think to myself, how could he choose to not care for me"! And those moments in time hurt the most. Knowing that he chooses not to be there for me, its not that he cant, its his choice. But, there was one time he was there, and I thank him as often as I can for being there that evening. That night I sat on my bed with a bottle of pills in one hand and a glass of water in the other. I had written a note explaining why I was ending everything. I began to swallow pills after pills when suddenly my father walked in my room. He had made me brownies, my favorite kind, chocolate brownies with white chocolate chips inside. He realized what I was doing to myself and took me to get help right away. I went through lots of therapy to recover mentally from what I had tried to do to myself, and through everything including the friends I lost, he was the one there for me most. My dad lost his brother due to suicide and he wasn't about to lose his daughter either. Coming up on the 8th of January will mean that we have spent 17 years together. 17 breathtaking years, in which my dad has done everything in his power to make sure I've always had everything I needed, everything I could ever want. But what he didn't know was that what I needed most, could not be bought for me, and didn't cost any money. As hard as it may be to believe money doesn't buy love and happiness. He did not have the best of childhoods that a kid growing up should have. So, he made a promise that if he ever decided to have children he would never let them grow up the way he did. He wanted to be able to protect his children from all the hate in the world. I am grateful and proud to be able to call this wonderful man my dad.
This is the complete article, containing 684 words
(approx. 2 pages at 300 words per page).
