I learned at a young age that you don’t always get what you want. For a long time, I wanted a father. I wanted a father to be there to watch me grow and to be proud of me. My father was never there to see my accomplishments. He didn’t see me learn how to ride a bike or play my first volleyball game. He doesn’t understand how much my faith means to me or who my closest friends are. He’s never made the time to show me the love I deserve. The least my father could do is call on my birthday and that’s already too much to ask for. The person who helped create me can’t even remember what day I was born on. When my mother divorced him, I still wanted a father. I just wanted a man to treat me like one of his own. When my mother decided to get remarried, …show more content…
To me, he was always Mark. I never saw him as family. I saw him as an intruder, an unwanted guest, and a disruption. Christmas was ruined. Birthdays, Thanksgiving, and New Year’s were all dreaded. I hated him and everyone knew it. He was the first person I had ever hated in my entire life. Mark was racist, rude, dramatic, close-minded, arrogant, and prideful. My mother never saw what my entire family saw. We all saw Mark as crazy. She wanted to believe that his good side was good enough to make up for the bad parts of him. She saw that he was always helping her and that’s all she cared about. My mother never heard the rude remarks, never paid attention to his actions, and simply ignored everything that was wrong. I didn’t understand why he was the way he was. Mark had caused so much pain for our family. He was tearing my family apart. I was scared my brother was going to run away from home. My sister didn’t want to come home anymore because she was tired of all the drama. For the longest time, I didn’t forgive my mother for allowing him into our …show more content…
Mark had a bad hip and diabetes. I knew he had an addiction to painkillers. At the time, I looked past all of his problems because I only saw what I wanted to see. I didn’t want to have any mercy or compassion towards him. I saw all of his problems and looked down on him. I saw how he treated everyone around him and judged him. It never crossed my mind that maybe he was just tired. Maybe life had taken the best of him and he was just tired. It has taken me 6 years to actually step back and look at Mark. He has no family. Both of his parents are deceased and his brothers could care less about how he was doing. His ex-wife used him for money. On top of that, he has been admitted to the hospital several times due to old age and the fact that he doesn’t know how to take care of himself. He’s old and is fearful that he won’t be able to see his daughter grow. He has no one to look after him except for my mother. I haven’t been making it any easier by hating
I do not have any memories of my own father as a child. I met him when I was about fourteen years old. My mother and grandmother, with the help of my uncles and aunt, raised me. Although I had strong positive male role models in my life, there was always the void of my father that I dealt with on a daily basis. I can remember at a young age, before blowing out the candles on my birthday cake, I would wish that my father would show up to my party. I had elaborate daydreams of him coming back into my life and doing things with me like I saw on television. It never happened. While walking to the train station one evening my uncle casually said to me “there’s your father” as if I saw him on an everyday basis. I didn’t...
I'd like to thank you all for the outpouring of support and condolences on the loss of my beautiful son Adam. My entire family appreciates it. This is my eulogy to Adam:
I am not sure who began to become more distant and difficult, but eventually the tension escalated to a point where I did not speak to him for a period of six months. There may have been comments made in passing but nothing related to how a father and daughter should be speaking. I began to believe that it was because he did not truly love me or at least did not want to be around me anymore, which led to a time of darkness in my life. It even affected me enough to cause me to not trust anyone anymore, because of the fear of being hurt. Slowly I began to see how this relationship was affecting others in my life. My mother especially had a hard time dealing with the solitude that I was feeling. One day I decided that enough was enough and I sat down and talked it out with him. Although I still have a hard time talking about this period of my life, my relationship with my father has improved immensely. Improving this relationship has helped me to open myself up to others as well. I still have work to be done in regards to my trust issues, but I am closer than I have been in years. The message I learned during this experience is to not allow anyone to cause me to feel unloved, as well as to always communicate when there is a problem. Besides this arrow, there are more in my life that have also impacted me in various
Eulogy for Son First, I would like to say thank you for the tremendous outpouring of love and affection from our community at last night’s viewing for John. Roger at the funeral home told us this was the largest turnout he could remember. Close to 1,000 friends—and many people who were merely touched by John’s story—waited up to four hours in the rain to pay their respects. We want you to know how very grateful and very touched we were by the response.
Today, the most difficult day in my family’s life, we gather to say farewell to our son, brother, fiancé and friend. To those of you here and elsewhere who know Dylan you already are aware of the type of person he was and these words you will hear are already in your memory. To those who were not as fortunate, these words will give you a sense of the type of man he was and as an ideal for which we should strive. My son has been often described as a gentle soul. He was pure of heart and had great sensitivity for the world around him. He had a way with people that made them feel comfortable around him and infected others to gravitate toward him. Dylan exuded kindness and pulled generosity and altruism out from everyone he touched. He was everyone's best friend.
I never fully grasped the idea of how addiction is a disease, so there has honestly been so many times when I thought I hated him. I would get so upset with him for doing things that were out of his control; stealing from us, causing us so much grief and sadness, and emotionally scarring me. I put up the thickest and strongest walls around myself so that he would not hurt me any more. I was so selfish; I blocked him out so that I wouldn’t get hurt, instead of being there to help him. I held a grudge for so long. Till the last day I saw him, I held a grudge for stressing mom and dad out, for not being the big brother that I wanted him to be, for choosing the drugs when I needed him to choose his
My grandpa left the Church when I was eight-years-old. Church is central to most of my extended family, and his leaving really ruined our relationship. He then divorced my grandma several years ago and further separated us. I barely ever see him now, and it’s awkward when I do. He is dating and living with another woman, and it seems like he’s replacing all of the people he lost. Thinking about him always makes me sad now, and I miss being able to do things with him. We used to spend lots of time together when I was younger, but now those memories are fading and I am unable to fill their gaps with new memories. His actions have taken away the close bond we had as grandfather and granddaughter. With the passage of time, I have gotten used to him not being in my life as much as he should, but I still cannot get over all that he’s done to my family. He seems to be the root of all my emotional struggles, and I easily blame things on him. In spite of that, I can see how I have been changed for the better. Knowing how his actions have made me feel, I have vowed to never do what he has done to me. I know how unwanted he makes me feel sometimes, and I never want to make others feel that way. It is a horrible feeling, and I’d hate to be the cause of it. He has also taught me about the importance of choosing a spouse who I am compatible with and can communicate well with. I am more cautious in my relationships
One of my earliest memories of Grandpa begins with us driving to the Monmouth Park Racetrack. We sure did love to go to the track and root for Julie Krone or one of our other favorite jockeys. He loved challenges, and he especially loved the challenge of picking the ponies. He would read the race programs in the Asbury Park Press and usually pre-pick most of the day's favorite horses before ever leaving the house. Still, on arrival, we always bought the program and maybe a race sheet or two before entering the track grandstand. After picking up a couple of seats right around the finish line or maybe a little past it, back to figuring he'd go. As he went, grandpa would always point out the horses that had won recently or looked like they were due. "I have a feeling about this one" he'd say.
He was an alcoholic and his drinking caused him to have irrational thoughts and violent outbursts. Even though, I was not part of their household I was exposed to the behavior. Being a child, I questioned his hostility all the time, as I did not understand the reasons for it. I also noticed that nobody would talk about it and it was rapidly forgotten as if there was a sacred secrecy and/or “taboo”. I could not help but to be scared of my neighbor; and most of the time, I avoided his presence. I learned to associate him with violence, aggression, profanity and bad odor. I still remember how loud his voice was; and the way he treated his wife and kids with such disregard for their feelings. Although, indirectly, domestic violence had a profound effect on the way I interact with others and my ability to trust people. As an adult, I think about those times and realize that it was not my fault that my neighbor was an awful human being. I understand that his disparity was not caused by my presence; but by his alcohol abuse and lack of respect for others. It reminds me of one of my favorite poems; (Children Learn What They Live, by Dorothy Law Nolte.) It is very much true; we learn what we
I stand before you today to pay my last respects, and to say my final goodbyes, to my father Harry.
Eulogy for Son William was a very special person. His good qualities are endless. Since he was just a child, I always remember William sticking up for the family. When his sister, Lisa, was a baby, William would sit outside her room with a mask and cape on, ready to rescue her in case she started crying. And, if William’s father or I were making too much noise, he was always quick to fly downstairs and tell us to keep quiet so as not to disturb his little sister.
Before I begin I would like to thank all of you here on behalf of my mother, my brother and myself, for your efforts large and small to be here today, to help us mark my fathers passing.
When I was 4 years old my mother and father broke up. At the time, I was living with both my mother and my father. We lived in a small run-down apartment in Bloomington. Our household was made up of my mother, father, sister, and I. I am not sure what lead to my mother and father splitting, but I know they had many problems. They had been together 8 years, yet neither of them were happy. When my mother and father split up my sister and I were left with my mother. I remember being upset that my father did not take me with him. I remember crying about it and I also remember my mother punishing me for it. This caused me to believe that it was normal for a father to leave, but when I started preschool I realized that was not the case. I felt very confused when other children would talk about their families. Especially, when they mentioned their fathers.
First, all honor and all my praises go to God for giving me the strength, wisdom, courage and the ability to share my gift with others. Without him this wouldn’t be possible. I thank him for blessing me tremendously. I owe everything to God, because without him I don’t have an existence. Thank you my heavenly Father.
Complicated is a good word to describe my childhood. I am originally from Lima, Peru, where I lived my first eight years. Also, I am the only child of my mom Susana Ramos, a secretary, and Julio Ayin, a pilot of the Peruvian air force. Since before I was born, my parents were separated because of infidelities. Both, frequently argued over money and myself. I had to constantly attend counseling sessions because I was acting up, due to the fact that I was getting affected by my parent’s hostile encounters. As a kid, I always looked at my friends and saw how their family were united and how they had a great relationship with their father, which I always wanted but never got. I spend countless nights, crying and trying to figure out why my father never came to see me and every time I ask him why he never told me. Until one day I found out that he got