My hero is William Benjamin Brogdon, born March twenty-third, 1977 in Davidson County at Lexington Memorial Hospital. He is the son of Patricia and William Brogdon and the father of two children. He is my hero because he has shown me more to the real world than anyone else has before, he has brought happiness to a world that has shown me only darkness, he is the strongest person I know, and he is my father. Although he has not always been in my life, he has been with me through support and compassion. He is what makes everything worth it. Ever since I was a baby, I remember my father taking care of me—my mother always working. That was just how life was; it also created lots of problems. While times were tight, issues arose. This fueled my
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As she is the most supportive person I have met, she is not the topic of this essay. My father scavenged through what jobs he could find to get one that would allow him to work as well as spend time with his family. I remember being excited yet fearful for him to work because I imagined my brother and I would grow apart from our father due to him working too much. The fear of him working too much came, but we never grew apart—if anything, we grew closer. “In 2.2 million households, fathers raise their children without a mother. That's about one household in 45” (Armas 4). He and I finally finally reached a place where we did not have to hide secrets, we shared everything. The first year together apart from my mother was scary but it was peaceful for once in our lives. My brother was potty trained, started his first year of school, and began riding the bus home. It was amazing to see how much progress we had made as a family. My family has told me very little about my father’s past. I only have what knowledge has been rumored around my family. I have always heard that he has had a rough early life followed by having children and continuing the roughness. I do not believe he has ever had a break when it comes to responsibility. That has never stopped him from being there for my brother and
As she is the most supportive person I have met, she is not the topic of this essay. My father scavenged through what jobs he could find to get one that would allow him to work as well as spend time with his family. I remember being excited yet fearful for him to work because I imagined my brother and I would grow apart from our father due to him working too much. The fear of him working too much came, but we never grew apart—if anything, we grew closer. “In 2.2 million households, fathers raise their children without a mother. That's about one household in 45” (Armas 4). He and I finally finally reached a place where we did not have to hide secrets, we shared everything. The first year together apart from my mother was scary but it was peaceful for once in our lives. My brother was potty trained, started his first year of school, and began riding the bus home. It was amazing to see how much progress we had made as a family. My family has told me very little about my father’s past. I only have what knowledge has been rumored around my family. I have always heard that he has had a rough early life followed by having children and continuing the roughness. I do not believe he has ever had a break when it comes to responsibility. That has never stopped him from being there for my brother and