Personal Narrative: My Father As An Immigrant

My father is a Sicilian combat veteran from Brooklyn and my mother is an immigrant from El Salvador. The disparity of their backgrounds is immeasurable, but their lives have impacted me greatly. They divorced when I was 3, but their relationship is unbelievably strong. I lived in a diverse environment, speaking different languages and existing in polar opposite lifestyles. The dichotomy molded me and influenced my character, perspective and state of being. Under my father’s roof, I endured a military-style upbringing-but the love was apparent. I was encouraged to play sports and excel in my academics. I am competitive in nature, and exceeding was always my aspiration. However certain events have caused me to falter, but I now understand that the duty of each human is to delegate their time for the advancement of the species and if no one holds you responsible, it is imperative that you do so. When I was sixteen, my father was stricken with Guillain-Barre syndrome, an inflammatory disorder of the peripheral nerves, and he became paralyzed within weeks, and the healing process still persists today. I didn’t tell my mother; and I felt utterly alone- going to school, practice, studying, cooking meals, and tending to my father who was in the hospital. My father was in shambles, but I remained strong, and will-power kept us going and time
I conferred with loved ones and I accepted my circumstances. It was time to begin anew, and I dedicated the last year to finishing my degree and realizing my purpose. As an English major, I was always passionate about writing, reading, manifesting new interpretations and expressing ideas. I could pinpoint details and construct an entirely new implication. Everything has an underlying meaning that is awaiting to be understood, and life presents us with specific points of reference; and our responsibility is to grasp its