My Life Of The Year

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The year was 1992, I was thirteen years old and a seventh grader in middle school. I grew up in Lawrenceville Georgia with my mother, father, and two sisters. My parents have been married twenty-five years at this point in my life. My dad was seventy-seven years old, but he was a young seventy-seven and my mother was forty-four years old. He had a full time job cleaning offices at UPS. My father would cook dinner, work a full time job, and take care of my sisters and me because my mother worked a third shift job. He would cut the grass, complete odds and ends around the house, as if he was fifty-five years old. He did not look or act like a seventy-seven year old man. He was the best father my sisters and I could ask for. He was a true definition of a respectable, responsible, caring, loving, and wonderful dad. This day my father drove to work like he always did, in our little two door Hyundai Excel. On his way to work, he started to feel a sharp pain in his arm and some pain in his head. Instead of parking and walking down forty-five stairs, which he did every day. My father began to feel ill, so he decided to drive back home. At this time no one really had a cellphone, so he was not able to call us to let us know what was happening. He continued to drive home in horrible Atlanta traffic. There was no air conditioning in the car and it was really hot outside. My father was starting to feel his whole arm going numb and he felt a really bad headache. He finally reached our house, and explained to us what happened. My father was strong man, a man’s man, very old school. For him to say he was hurting and in pain was a lot for my dad. When he said he was in pain it scared me. I remember seeing my father cut his finge... ... middle of paper ... ...are of us while my mother was at work. My mother continued to work because she was younger than him. The next twelve years my dad continued to be a great dad and grandfather. He kept taking care of his home, his wife and my little sister at the age of eighty-five. Even though his old age he acted as if he were sixty-five years old. He went back to his normal activities for the next several years. I remember he would still do yard work, he would cut down weeds in the grass with a machete’. For eighty-five years old that was pretty active for his age. My father was a great dad. I try to be a better parent because of him, I want to be a wonderful parent just like him. I wished he was still here so he could have spent time with my youngest daughter Jaslene. I think about my father every day and miss him so much. He is amazing and in my eyes the best father ever!

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