Narrative Essay Father

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I was twelve years old when mom died on the hospital bed. Her pale, lifeless skin resembled the snow that was gently falling outside. Beside me, my sister’s lithe body trembled. My dad was next to my dead mom’s side, his hands tightly clasping hers. His eyes were bloodshot red from all the crying he did that morning. After the doctor declared that mom was officially dead, my dad let out a loud wailing sound that I would never forget. He broke down and collapsed on the floor with my sister attempting to comfort him. It was shocking to see my dad cry. He was supposed to be strong, nothing should tear him down. My image of a strong father was shattered. I wanted him to shut up. His screams of anguish pierced my ears. The scene he was causing was …show more content…
After mom’s death our dad tried his best at being strong. He lied to us, giving half-hearted speeches to me and my sister about how he was fine. His facade crumbled away after he saw mom’s coffin descend into the ground. He later found solace with a beer bottle. Every night when I tried to sleep my nose was invaded with the bitter stench of alcohol. On a few occasions, I could smell a musty scent in the air when my dad lit up a cigarette in the house. The putrid smell was so strong and so revolting my eyes started to water. I spent more hours coughing the smoke away than sleeping. The foul odor was still present in the morning, making me nauseous when I headed out for …show more content…
There were dark circles under her eyes, her cheekbones were now noticeable, and her clothes barely covered her bony arms. Whenever it was time for dinner she would only eat a few spoonfuls of food before leaving the table. I wanted to push her back into her chair and force her eat. I know it sounds harsh, but seeing her thin body scared me. It absolutely terrified me that she was starving herself to death. I’ve seen my sister every day of my life, but for the first time after mom’s death I could not recognize her.
Dad had signed me up for a therapist which I thought was ridiculous. I believed I was holding onto sanity better than he was. He said that my teachers at school noticed that I was falling behind in class. He agreed to it, saying that I looked “lost” and needed someone to talk to. It made me furious. I didn’t want to talk to a therapist or any stranger for that matter. I just wanted to talk to my dad. I wanted to talk to him, but he just wouldn’t listen to

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