Personal Narrative: Eight-Year-Old

Words: 671
Pages: 3

There’s no way to explain to an eight-year-old that his dad left him for good. What’s worse is having that same eight-year-old explain to his three-year-old brother “Dad isn’t coming back”. That eight-year-old will go on to notice his older brother, age seventeen, become the father figure of the family: taking care of a fragile mom -whose second language was English- while embarking on one low-paying job after the other to help support his family in any way he can. In 2007, that eight-year-old was me.

“I believe in America.” In both happy moments and sad, my dad would echo these words to me. He would follow up by reminding me that I would one day appreciate the expression from The Godfather when I become older. Surprisingly, he was right.
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However, America was not the haven my family expected it to be. My family was plagued with personal and financial hardships. After multiple job losses, my father fell into a very deep depression, plunged even deeper into a dependence on alcohol and prescription drugs. There was no hope for recovery. My father’s addictions put a tremendous strain on our family and by the time I was eight-years-old, I watched my parents fall out of love. Even as a child, it was evident to me that my mother’s stress was that of holding the weight of the world on one’s