I Lost the Chance :: Personal Narrative, Autobiographical Essay

I Lost the find oneself   My father and I ar made from much the same mold. As my familiar resembles my mom, I resemble my father. I inherited his enjoyment for puzzles, oral communication and wit. I share much of his eclectic musical tastes. As I grow older, I see more and more of his traits consciously and subconsciously exhibited in me.   I have spoken with my father one cartridge clip in the past 8 1/2 years.   Divorced parents are always a messy situation for the kids, and our family was no exception. My younger brother and I had our ups and downs with both parents, fortunately mostly ups. The time came when my father heady that he wanted us to live with him. He was very convincing... but neer convincing enough to gain a commitment from us. Unfortunately, he refused to let it alone at that. I was, at the time, a soph in high school, my brother in 8th grade. Eventually, we cracked. Agreed to hold expose in with him. All was right in his world. Except one t hing. We could not bring ourselves to tell my mom. Eventually, though, it happened.   A long, late-night handling ensued with my mom, discussing the motivations for our decision, his request, and our feelings on the entire matter. That discussion was the difference. As alike as my father and I are, he never gave us that choice. Despite the enormous emotional stress this sudden resolve must have put on mom, she never once try to coerce us to stay for one reason or another... and in the end that is why she won.   The shoe on the other foot again, we were awfully hesitant to approach our father on the issue. One day it well(p) happened. Were not going to move in with you. I remember or so everything about that evening. It was Thanksgiving weekend. My father told us to gather anything we wanted from his apartment. He berated us nearly the entire drive from his place to moms house. Youll fit in well in the business world... completely cold-hearted. He pulled up and we ste pped out of the car. For seven years, the last words I heard my father address were Have a nice life as he pulled away.   everyplace the past four years, my brother and I have made attempts to butt on him or meet with him, always with the same utter avoidance in response.