Personal Narrative: My Father Called Daddy

The man I once called Daddy
Most of my life I grew up in the heat of Mesa, Arizona. I lived with my mother, father and three sisters. We never had the nicest or newest things, my mother a beautiful, brown eyed woman with a pearly white smile, stayed home to look after us every day while my father went to work. Each day I would walk to school or ride the bus because my mother worked at an at home day care and my father was always absent. My dad always made me laugh as a little child, he was fun and loving and would do voices of cartoon characters that would make you drop to the floor laughing. My father who was a fun, handsome, loving guy slowly slipped away from me. I recall one day I ran …show more content…
Soon I began enjoying the time he was gone and dreading if I ever saw him return. My father was as good as dead, he was a “ghost of a man, his hair… going gray, his pale face cut with deep groves” (Bragg 216) and he looked as if he became “the walking dead”. (Braggs 217) This monster had killed my father and replace him with “monster of my childhood”. (Braggs 217) . This monster took away my mother the one thing that held me together. My father stopped caring, he stopped doing activities such as lawn moving and would make messes for my Mother to fix. Because of his promotion we lived in a huge house with more than 2 acres left for my Mother to tend to, she had to work, clean, take care of animals all of her motherly responsibilities as well as pick up the slack my father left burdening on her shoulders. She began to be heavily loaded with work forcing her to give up much of her time to care for her daughters. I felt as if I would crumble because now I had no one to help me. I participate in cheer but now I get rides to practice, I work as hard as I can to better myself all without support from my family. While cheering at the football games I