My Life Of My Father

As a child, I always wondered why my father wasn’t here with us or why my mother always came home late. I hated the fact I was alone and more the fact my brother never had the proper family relationship. However, I never had the courage to ask these questions. Around the time my mother got home from work, I often saw my mother cry. She mumbled words of loneliness and distress as tear wetted her cheeks. At that time, at a tender age of seven, all I could do was to cry with her. Now I am capable of accomplishing what was then thought impossible.

Many circumstances have brought about the person I am today. My life began on a tiny island called Saipan. In this island, you can’t go anywhere without a car and the only entertainment is the movie theater. In a small apartment, I grew up with my younger brother and the housekeeper. My father was in Korea most of the time due to his work, and my mother returned home from work roughly around midnight. I was conscious of the fact that my parents were working for our sakes. Nonetheless, I felt lonesome and was desperate for companionship. For my brother, I was all he had. What should have been inquired to our parents, he turned to me instead. He questioned his homework, informed me about the supplies needed for the next day, and described how his day went. Rather than my own parents, my brother was the one who altered much of my outlook on life.

Steven, my brother, had a particular case of a language disorder at a young age. This