Every night when I come to my room to crawl in my bed and crash asleep, I can always count on seeing my dad through my bedroom window. He’s wearing a pair of old Levi’s jeans, a windbreaker, two pairs of wool socks, and old beaten up Nikes. He’s watching any football game he can find or a boring C-SPAN show. My dad’s smoking a cigar, drinking raspberry Snapple ice tea. He notices me when my light flickers on in my room; he smiles and waves. My dad and I have never been extremely close, but I like that about him. He minds his business and I mind mine. He’s never in my face.
My dad is older than most dads that have kids my age; he’s 55. I rather have an older father than a younger one because he seems wiser; he’s been through more than younger people. His stories about when he was a kid are my favorite that he tells me. One of my favorite stories he ever has told me was when he was in kindergarten. His older sister was supposed to walk him to school every morning. They never liked each other though, so when they would walk to school she would see her friends and run ahead with them, leaving my dad behind not knowing where to go. He would just keep on walking to school, trying to follow behind them. Eventually he gave up and just played by a creek by his house for the whole day then would come home. He did that for several weeks. When he finally went to school, his teacher pinned a note on him saying, “Jeffrey has not been to school for the past several weeks.” He later came home crying, not knowing what the note said and thought he was going to get in trouble. His sister was actually the one who got in trouble.
My dad was never the best student, never did any of his homework, or anything that makes up a good student. He always liked reading though, whenever a teacher would give him a textbook he would go home and read all of it. He remembered what he read too, and so he did fairly well on his tests. Even when he was young, he always enjoyed reading non – fiction. He really likes to learn, but he has to be interested in the subject to learn about it. For example, he finds the history of Cuba really interesting, and he’ll learn everything about Cuba. He was just never interested in anything that he was learning in school.
He never had an interest in school, but he was always hard working. He has always had a job since he was eleven doing a daily paper route. He is never one to be bossed around though, he hates when people tell him what to do. When he was eighteen, he owned his own record store. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life, all that he knew was he liked music, so he turned an interest into his living. He now own two hearing aid companies. I’m not sure why he is now into hearing aids, but his dad, my grandpa, sold hearing aids too. I think he might have wanted to follow into his dad’s footsteps.
I think the reason why I look up to my dad so much is because he’s had a rougher life than the usual, but he’s still very successful. I remember on January 25th 2010, my friend, who I have known since we both were 5, died from a brain tumor. I have never been somebody to cry about deaths, and this one seemed no different. Nobody really noticed I was shattered, besides my dad. I remember one night he talked to me about it. I did most of the talking he just sat and listened. I never met a better listener. Then he told me about the hardest death he had to cope with. It was his cousin’s, she took her own life after being depressed for about three years. Later that year, 2010, so many people I knew passed away. I was a lot more aware of death that year, but I was lucky to have someone to talk to. That is when my dads and my relationship got a lot closer.
When I see my father every night from my room it always puts me in a good mood. It’s one of those things in my life that I can always count on. Even though it doesn’t seem like a big deal, it really is to me. We may not be very close, but I can always count on him being there for me with love and support. That is why my father is my hero.