When I was about seven years old, I went through one of the biggest changes in my whole life. Both my parents came upon a conflict that couldn't be repaired. My parents were getting a divorce. Going through such a thing was hard at a young age, but I had to pull through it. This occurrence in my life only made me a stronger person inside and out.
The arguments that took place at the house were ridiculous. Whenever my dad would come home an argument would stir up, and turn into a battle. Throughout the nights my parents would fight. There is one that sticks out the most in my mind, and it's the one I was most involved in. One night, a big war broke out in my own parents bedroom, and it was time when my father began to pack. They would argue and argue relentlessly about who would leave and who would stay. I still remember that night when my dads drawers were emptied out and getting piled in the hall ready to be put in bags. My mom shouted, "Kick the clothes" and as I did that I really didn't understand what was truly going to happen. On the other end my dad would yell, "get out of the room." Finally, my dad and moms feuds seemed like they were over, but they weren't. It was a hard time for my mom to go through the custody battles, and not get stressed. Some nights she would come home and just cry and cry. After all the time fighting for custody, and who would get what, my mom won the battle. At this time when my dad wasn't around, I finally began to notice what happened. My dad was out and my sister, brother and me were to live with my mother. My dad had the rights to visitation, he would come to my house on Sundays and Thursdays. On these days we would spend talking and playing games and watching television. After a few years of my dad showing up for visitation he just stopped coming. At this point I was old enough to totally recognize what I was about to be responsible for.
Being the oldest male in the household, I sort of took up the role of man of the house.