“That’s another story for later”

He says to me and my sisters as we sit on our brown sofa watching TV. We beg him constantly to tell us about his past and how he grew up, but he says with a smile “some stories I’ll tell you when you’re older”. To me and my two sisters our dad is the toughest man in the world. And that, no matter what, will never change.

For my dad growing up wasn’t the easiest. He lived in a small farm house in Deerfield, Illinois with eight other people, his mother, sister, aunt, uncle, their three kids, grandmother, and grandfather. My dad grew up without a father figure because his dad left him when he was young, sitting and crying on the curb wondering if it was his fault because he was adopted and not his “real” son. There was never a told reason why he did it, but it happened. His uncle wasn’t a very nice man and abused him every chance he got. He broke my dads nose with a bike tire while my dad was trying to fix it his uncle also hit him in the head with a crowbar so my dad punched him in the mouth so hard he broke his dentures. As a teen, my dad got into many fights whether he caused them or not. Usually when people first meet my dad think he’s “different” as in whether he’s nice or a crazy person, but when they get to know him they realize that he’s nice but also crazy. He’s considered crazy because my dad is a true american redneck. He likes fishing, muddin’, camping, and he loves shooting guns at the gun range so people usually call him weird because he’s a true american redneck. Because my dad was different from others, he was adopted and really skinny, he was teased a lot, hence the fights, but he never let that bother him. He stayed strong and said “You know what? I don’t care”. Then showed that person that it doesn’t matter how skinny you are, you can still be as tough as a rock.

In his late twenties, with reddish-brown, green eyes and a lot more built my dad moved out of the house and into a trailer with his new puppy Butch. My dad didn’t go to an actual college but instead a college where he studied his main career, fixing cars. Later those years of living in a small trailer he met my mom, the woman of his dreams. My mom and her daughter, Kristina, moved in with my dad. A few years later my mom said she was pregnant with my two sisters. It came to a conclusion that they had to buy a new home so they moved into a townhouse. Later my mom and dad got married, then my sisters were born, and a year later I was. In 2011 my mom, and my dads soulmate, died. She died from an asthma attack in our livingroom one night and my dad was holding her hand telling her it’s going to be okay and that he loved her so much. My father is an only parent trying to raise three obnoxious teenage girls. He has no help except from his mom but that’s still not enough. My oldest sister doesn’t live with us anymore because she moved out and went to live in Las Vegas. My dad is still struggling to give us what we want and to make us happy, but with all the chaos happening in his life, he somehow manages not to lose his head. I'm impressed by him not “losing his head” because since we’re teens we want all the new cool things, like iPhones, laptops, and new TVs for our rooms. Over the years, my dad has been there for me and my two sisters because he enjoys taking us to places like to Chain-O-Lakes Campground. He also takes us fishing and, when we have the time, shooting at the gun range. Over the summer was really hard on my dad so we didn’t get to do much but to me that was okay. It was fine by me because he keeps telling me “God’s doing this for a reason. He’s testing my strength and I’m showing him how tough I really am by not giving in.” So I know that our situation will get better for my family and my dad will be happier someday, whether it’s today, tomorrow, or next year. And I know everything will get better because he said so and he’s always right.

My dad has always been mentally and physically strong, from young child to old adult, and stories are only good for you to imagine his strength. After my mom died, my dad was still strong, yes he cried sometimes but it was his wife, but I got to see how strong he really was. He managed not to give up and he kept going strong, fighting everyday no matter how much he didn't want too. To me and my sisters, he is like a superhero. Someday I hope to be as strong as him and if I’m not that’s okay because he’ll be there for me even when I’m weak.