Final Nerrative Essay

He became difficult and refused to listen to Our mother. He would stroll the the streets all night and routinely come back home with items we suspect were stolen. My parents had always pondered upon and discussed the consequences of leaving us alone, without the guidance and support of both a mother and father. But because of our financial situation, my father needed to make the sacrifice. We all needed to sacrifice something. Subsequently, the behavior of my brother got worse over time and finally hit rock bottom one cold night. One Friday night approximately at 9 p. . , I was returning from school, about a block away from my house, I spotted a group of kids beating up a person. As I got closer, I recognized the unconscious body of my brother. Me being only 13 at the time, I launched myself with the greatest possible might at these bullies, which were in their twenties. Recall about 20 seconds of the fight, as I was getting stomped in my face, lying on the wet ground. To this day, I can still smell the dirt, water, blood, and leaves of that particular bush that grows around the rivers in that region of Mexico.The next day woke up in a hospital, and my first thought was about my brother. Was he well? Where was he? I ignored my head covered in bandages and the pain of my broken arm. Not even the fact that my dad flew from Los Angles and was there by my side. My heart began to fill with anger towards the man beside me, for failing to be there for us, and leaving his wife and children alone for months. When the nurse finally rolled my brother in on a squeaky hospital bed into the room, the whole family burst into tears the moment my brother and I embraced. Those were the tears of enormous relief that we were both alive.Up to this day, it has been the only time I have seen my dad cry. That day, all of us cried as a family in that cold blue pine smelling hospital room. During the following weeks of our recovery our father stayed in Mexico with us. About 3 weeks afte r this ordeal, we went back with the local police to the area where my brother and were attacked. The eerie feeling embraced us, as we walked down the block to that area. I will never forget the look on my father's face, as he looked at the scattered broken branches and our blood on he concrete floor, where we laid that night.For my father, the realization of his sons coming close to losing their lives finally struck him, he broke down. The police never found out what gang was responsible for the attack; though, still have a feeling that my brother knew some of them, but I never pushed the issue upon him after that. My parents discussed the option of sending my brother to a military school for kids who are on the wrong path in life, but a funny thing occurred. Once my father was with us fulfillment, my brother Joe completely changed, it was as a light bulb went off. Never again he got into trouble.For the sake of the family, my parents made a decision to move back to California. We sold our house in Mexico and within months, the whole family moved back to Los Angles. My brother continued to behave, as he confidently found his positive path. It ultimately took the presence of my father to turn him around. Frequently hear arguments in single parent households, that a father is not needed for happiness and stability in the family. In some instances that might be true, however, when it comes to our family, our father is the glue hat has kept us together to this day.