My dad might have not been the friendliest man alive or the smartest but he made me think differently about the world and my life. He struggled most of his life, with no father, with barely any money and always surrounded by people that didn't believe in him. He hated school so much that he didn't go to class, not even one day. He went with his friends to smoke or to do other drugs. He never thought about his future he just cared about surviving with no dad or any other support from anyone but my mom and uncle.
He fell in love with drugs so much, he started selling them even though he knew that he could go to jail for it, but that didn't stop him. He sold little by little, and with the money he got selling, the more he would buy to sell more. He told every single one of his friends that selling drugs was the best thing in the world, and that it was a good way to make easy money without having a job. He sold more and more, and the more he sold the more he did it himself which turned him crazier and crazier everyday. My mom was fine with him selling drugs because he made a lot of money doing it, but she didn't like the fact of him doing the drugs.
Everyday he wanted to fight random people that would look at him straight in the eyes. To him that was an insult, and one day a guy that he had problems with before because he called my dad horrible names, so my dad walked up to him while taking off his jacket and punched him in the face dropping him to the ground. He bent over to the guy and gave him more punches to the face until his friends grabbed him and pulled him

back, and all started running so that no one could see what they had just done.
My uncle, which is my dad's brother always took care of my dad and helped him with anything he needed help with, no matter what it was - even if they would get in trouble. They promised each other that no matter happened that they would always be together till death. My uncle promised my dad that he would help him take care of me and my mom as much as he could. They always got into fights with other people and didn't care how badly they hurt them, or what anyone thought of them, as long as they would always back each other up. It was like this until one night that had changed both of their lives forever.
They had gotten into a fight with two guys that had talked about them. Both my dad and uncle went up to the guys and asked them if they were talking about them. One of them said no with a scared face not wanting any problems, but the other one said yes with no fear. My dad looked at my uncle turned back around and hit the guy in the face so hard that my dads hand rebounded back at him. He hit him two more times in the face until he fell to the ground. The other guy that had said no saw that his friend fell and tried to hit my dad from behind, but before his hand connected with my dad my uncle hit him with all his force and knocked him out with that single punch. My dad was so focused on letting his anger out on the guy that he didn't notice that my uncle had knocked out the other guy. After he was done hitting the guy he turned around and saw the other guy on the ground and my uncle leaning against a wall, he walked up to my uncle and shook his hand.
They both heard the police sirens and started running, they ran to my uncles house

so that they wouldn't be out in the streets where the police would be searching for them. When they got to my uncle's house they were more tired then they've ever been. The first thing my dad did was go to the bathroom sink to wash the blood off from the guy he fought.
"Aye Mike, you think anyone saw us kick they ass?" my dad asked my uncle as he dried his hands
"No, I don't think so because I didn't see anyone while I was chilling on the sidewalk. Just forget about it, bro, and come with me to the liquor store to buy some bottles."
"You're stupid! What's wrong with you?"
"It's cool, nobody saw us so why you tripping so hard?" My uncle looked at my dad as if he lost respect for him for being scared.
"Whatever then let's go, if we get caught you better not run like a little bitch - you getting locked up with me."
They both put their coats on and went out the front door. My dad nervously looked over both his shoulders checking too see if any police were around. They both walked to the store with faces looking like they had just entered church. They entered the store, went up to the register and asked the cashier for two bottles of Hennessey. My dad dug in his black jean pocket with gold stitches searching for his ID, but didn't find it. His eyes opened up so wide that like if someone had pointed a gun to his face. He quickly searched his other three pockets, and nothing.
"What the fuck?" He murmured to himself. He then searched his pockets on his

coat hoping his ID would be there. But it wasn't.
"I got it don't trip, don't take your money out." My uncle told my dad putting the bottles on the counter.
"Fuck!"
My uncle looked back at my worried, angry father. "If you want to buy them so bad then go ahead, it doesn't matter to me".
"I dropped my ID somewhere" My dad says, with his hand still in his pockets double checking to see if his ID was there or not.
"Where?"
"I don't know, it's not in my pockets, and I know it was in here earlier." my dad told my uncle walking around to see if he had dropped it somewhere around there.
"You probably left it somewhere in my house, stop worrying. It's not the end of the world." Little did they both know, it was their last visit and their last bottles of Hennessey at that liquor store.
My dad had dropped his ID when he swung to hit the guy, he fought without noticing.
The ambulance had got there and had taken the guy my dad had fought. The guy was nearly dead from so many hits to the head and face. The police had got there about five minutes after the ambulance got there looking around for any evidence. One of the officers saw a dirty, bent, laminated identification card on the ground. He looked at it very closely and reading his name out loud, "Dwayne Robertson," saying in a low toned inside voice.

"Is this the person you fought?" the officer asked the guy my uncle fought showing him my dad's ID.
"Yeah. Him and another guy that look's like him, just a little wider and longer, wavy hair," said the guy.
"Okay, that's all I needed to know."
After they left the store my dad knew that there was a chance the police could have his ID in possession. He felt the need to say goodbye to me, to let me know of all his wrong doings and make sure I wouldn't turn out like him. He realized that a life of crime may seem like the easy way out of your problems, but he knew he wasn't going to be there for his son anymore. I knew my dad had nothing but my best interest in mind. I took his advice. I started focusing more in school and realized my true potential. Half way through my senior year, my dad's fight finally caught up with him and they sentenced him to 20 years in jail for nearly killing the guy. The end of the school year came and I got the letter I was waiting for, the acceptance letter to Yale. I was the happiest boy alive to receive that letter, and I know if my dad would have been with me he would have been proud of me also. I majored in Biochemistry and went off to Harvard's medical school with a full scholarship to be a doctor. It was a dream come true for me.
The day of graduation finally came and it was a lonely day. I had no one to cheer for me while I walked the stage, but my mom. I nervously looked towards the crowd every couple minutes to see who I saw, but all I saw was my mom's proud, lonely face. As they called my name along with the other honor students, I looked out into the crowd, I blinked twice and noticed a familiar face. I couldn't believe who I was starring at, my

dad, and standing next to him was his brother, my most favorite uncle in the world. It was time for my speech and my name was called out, I couldn't help but have tears in my eyes. As I stood in front of hundreds of people I nervously started my speech. I hadn't seen my dad in 12 years. Every word that I said while I was up there talking was dedicated to my mom, uncle and most importantly, my dad.

It was an honor to be graduating at the top of my class from Harvard, coming from a poor family and spending all my college life with no father. He's the reason why I'm here today, and for that reason I would thank him as much as I could when ever I had the chance. If it wasn't for his mistakes and him wanting the best for me, I'd probably be in jail, hooked on drugs or even worse, dead.