parents
The boundless love a parent has for their child is matched only by their capacity to embarrass them.
DAD
'DAD' it's not just a word, but whole world for the kids. The description about the Dad should be different according to everyone or no one can describe Dad unless they became parents. When we actually came to their position, than we realize what they did for us and how hard it is to be a parent.
By Navjot Kaur Sidhu4 years ago in Families
Is this for Papa?
I cannot imagine myself writing a story about my father who never really did anything exceptional nor had any out-of-the box achievements. But here I am trying not to sound too rude while stating this one sentence that I had always wanted to voice out to him.
By Prarthana Guha4 years ago in Families
Tales of Dad
My dad was the best, most people say that about their dad, but it was true for mine. My dad passed away on March 26th, 2022. I was with my mom and grandma going to a plant nursery. On our way there, I saw a red-tailed hawk, I swear it winked at me, and then it felt like all of my insides had been taken away. I was hollow, there was nothing inside of me anymore. I was empty.
By Dusti West4 years ago in Families
The Other Genetic Heritage
Some genetic traits are easy. Eye color? Check - both parents have lovely blue eyes, and I got the hazel variety. Hair color? Check - Mom's side of the family has the color-changing blond / brunette / blond / brunette / red / dyspeptic skunk thing going for at least four generations that I know of. (That last color shift is when the white streak starts laterally, crosswise, and spreads forwards and backwards. because my family can never do anything the normal way.) Heart disease? Check, everyone on Dad's side of the family. You-know-what eating grin? Like someone did a cut-and-paste of Dad's smile, and gave it to me as well. No denying that I was his kid, that's for sure!
By Meredith Harmon4 years ago in Families
Cheers to Legendary Dads!
Like me, my dad was a storyteller. Oral tradition was passed down through many generations of ancestors that lacked the ability to read, or write down their own thoughts, feelings, and histories. My father had the gift of gab, and was a talented storyteller with a booming voice and a wide-eyed stage whisper that made you feel like you were in on a most excellent secret. Before even becoming a father, my dad was “Uncle Al, the kiddie’s pal” because he was everyone’s favorite uncle. Sunday was the 15th anniversary of my dad’s death. I was prepared to feel everything from a little melancholy to crushing grief, but I had a pretty good day spent with my husband's family, and memories of loved ones. I was fortunate to have known my late father-in-law before he passed away, and was privileged to have met him prior to his becoming sick. I got to know a little bit of the sly character that was also considered a favorite uncle amid my husband’s family. I’m confident that our dads would have gotten on spectacularly, and can only imagine the stories that they would have told! I think that both of them would get a kick out of this one:
By Allison Rice4 years ago in Families
My Dad: The Hero
My dad is the third child of 10. The first set of children to be born were twins. Unfortunately, they passed away shortly after birth. When they were born, hospital buildings weren't all connected the way they are now. Today, we have corridors, elevators and bridges to get from one department to another. Back then, the nursery was not attached to the main hospital, so after the babies were delivered, they had to be taken outside to go to the nursery. It was February in Baltimore so it was cold. The babies got sick and ended up passing shortly after.
By Latoya Giles 4 years ago in Families
I win, Father
Fool that you are. I have taken you to lands you’ve never seen, places you could scarcely imagine. I’ve left you stranded in unfamiliar worlds, ticking numbers, you were left reeling. And you? I’ve been to few places, barely scratched the surface of this realm and it’s potential. Yet for all your efforts and scheming, you’ve only managed to take me to a place I’ve seen a thousand times over. Barely a moment of contemplation, a swift press of a button, and I returned home. Pathetic.
By Jade Cappelen4 years ago in Families
Gary, My Father
My dad grew up on a farm, the youngest son of 22 children in Lovell, Wyoming. Growing up in hardened Wyoming you had to be pretty tough. Growing up the youngest son, you had to be tougher than all the other brothers with their demands, teasing and roughhousing. My grandfather’s first wife had passed away leaving behind 11 children. To help take care of those children, he remarried Vera Allred who had a little girl from a previous marriage and they had 10 more children. Hence, the household of 22 and wide-eyed looks on people’s faces as I tell his family story.
By Kris Brinkerhoff4 years ago in Families
My Father Has Many Thumbs
On any given day, during any given week, encapsulated in the grander scheme of any given year, one can usually find my dad either toiling away on a project in the basement or enacting precise maneuvers, like a surgeon, on any one of dozens of plants or trees in his backyard garden.
By Jimmy Goodman4 years ago in Families
