In The Eyes of My Father
When my parents got divorced I didn’t handle it like every other kid, I was some-what happy not because I didn’t want my parents to be together, but because when I was young I only saw the times that lead me to believe they weren’t happy. My father and I don’t talk much anymore, every once in a while I guess. It’s not because I don’t love him, it’s just because sometimes things don’t always work out the way you want them to. My father grew up in a very broken family. His family had several gifts, two of which were academic achievement and bi polar disorder, which got passed on generation to generation like grandma’s china. On a cold November night, when I was just six years old, my mom and I walked out. My dad had been drinking and started to yell at my mom and me. My mom told me to get my favorite things and hurry. I brought my blanket my dad put me in the night I was born and white bear, my constant companion that I always talked to at night over a soft shadow of yelling. Just three years later, I started seeing my dad, everywhere. In my mind he was the scariest, because I only focused on how mad I was at him. When I was 12, social services got involved. I never wanted it to go that far, but I guess everybody else did. They started questioning whether my mom was protecting me enough from my father. I was reaching out so far for someone to help that I never really got to explain what I was going through. Everybody was putting words in my mouth, which just led to a break between my father and I. Now I am older, and realize that without my poppy I would not be who I am today. It was my dad who taught me to write music from my soul, and gave me courage. You might say that my father is an angry mean man, but really he’s a beautiful, intelligent, wise person stuck in a horrible disorder that makes everybody look at him and see a monster. My father is strong, and has taught me to never let anybody make you believe your something that your not. I owe an apology to my poppy, for not realizing how good of a person is stuck inside this scary image that society makes him. People can judge my dad all they want, but to me he is the world. He is the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me because my relationship with him taught me not to judge and look beyond my perception. It taught me that the most valuable thing you could ever learn to do is become tolerant of others, and look inside someone’s soul before you form a perception of who they are. I am so sorry that people don’t see him the way I do, because if they did, my father wouldn’t have had to go through his life looking like someone he’s definitely not. I want to thank my poppy, and even though you might think this is tragic, it’s probably the most wonderful thing that could ever have happened to me because I have learned to look beyond what I see and explore the depth of their soul and have compassion for their journey. I walk through my high school with a totally different view because of him. I walk through the eyes of my father, and forever will.
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