Storyboard Project

My father, was a great man. You could say he was a hero. But he suffered, despite all of his suffering, he remained resilient. My father was the strongest person I knew, still is.

Paul Gonzalez, was born on July 8th 1774. He was born to my grandparents Irma Gonzalez, and Ramon Gonzalez. He grew up in a poor family, but he never complained about not having as much as the other kids. He was the tallest out of his two brothers and was usually found intimidating. despite his appearance, he was the sweetest person you would ever learn to know. When he was in high school, he met my mother Deborah Shears. They fell in love and eventually, she got pregnant with my brother Stephen. During her pregnancy, my father left to the army. And when he arrived, he was greeted by his son and wife. Two years passed and they were expecting another child, my sister Asia Marie. My father was stationed in Fort Polk Louisiana. And while my mother was there to visit, my sister was born. He soon left and joined my mother in Ohio where they stayed as a family, it was picture perfect. But things went downhill from there. Four years passed and my mother was pregnant again, this time with me. When I was only 1 year old, they divorced. My father got split custody and would see us on weekends and sometimes weeks at a time. I always preferred my father over my mother. And I believe it is obvious why. When I was 4 years old, my mother fled. She took us to a cabin in the woods in Willard, Ohio where we stayed for two years. At that time I thought it was a vacation, but now I know it was to hide us from my father who was trying to gain sole custody. My mother was abusive, and she along with her boyfriend would cues me and my siblings psychological and physical anguish. She was on drugs and never cared for hers or our personal hygiene. We lived in a small cabin with no beds, AC, or even a restroom.

    Eventually, we left. And we went back home. My grandmother would take us shopping due to our lack of clothing for school. When we would bring them back, my mother would throw them on the floor for the dogs. She despised my father and everyone associated to him.

    When I was seven, my father gained sole custody. He brought us down to McAllen, Texas where he and his fiancé were living. After they got married, we moved to a bigger house in southern McAllen. Two years passed and my step-mom got pregnant. This caused her to lash out at us and our father. We moved to San Juan, Texas, where we lived for two years more. My father separated from my step-mom and we stayed in San Juan along with him.

    My father eventually met a woman from his job named Anna. She and her daughter lived in Mission, Texas. We would visit them and stay for weeks at a time. Anna was a nice woman who took care of us and spoiled us, she would never yell at us or cause us pain. The only problem however, was she caused my father to start drinking again. We lived with Anna for quite a while in Mission, Texas, which isn’t that bad. The geography is nice and there were cute little restaurants in walking distance from her house. Her daughter, Monique was a year older than me and my sister, would often stick to themselves and leave me out of everything keeping their belief that i was too young to join their conversation and that i would never amount to anything (funny because they’re both broke and pregnant). At the times that they did talk to me, they would take me to this little burger joint called Yum Yums. My father didn’t approve of them taking me with them but i was the only one he gave money so they kinda mooched off of me.

    While living in Mission, my father started drinking again. He was part of AA for two years and i didn’t know what it was at the time. But i really enjoyed the parties that they would throw. His alcoholism was the main factor for his demise, as was his PTSD. Him and Anna would often sit outside on the porch and drink until they couldn’t walk. This often lead to arguments and fights. I would sit in my room and wait until it was all over, they would smoke a cigarette and tell each other that they were sorry and that was the end of that. My uncle Ramon was very close with my dad but they often fought when they were drunk. My father's death lead to the end of my uncles drinking. But when they drank together, it more than often lead to a fight.

My dad often had us stay at my grandparents house so that he, Anna, and Ramon could go drinking without having to worry about us. That was our safe haven. My dad was not a bad father until he met Anna. Now, i wouldn’t say that he was bad, but he wasn’t the best.

I remember when we went to Orlando, Florida, it was the best summer of my life at the time. We went to Universal Studios and Islands Of Adventures and rode all of the rides. My dad called me a wimp when i didn’t want to ride so i faced my fears and rode anyways. My dad loved roller coasters, he often told us about when he was in the army and went to Japan. He told us about the ride that he rode at Fuji Q Highland called “Takashiba.” Takabisha is a Gerstlauer Euro-Fighter steel roller coaster located at the Fuji-Q Highland theme park in Fujiyoshida, Yamanashi, Japan. It is famous for having a drop angle of 121° – the steepest coaster in the world. He often would muse about how scary yet fun at the same time.

In 2012, he quit his job at Rio Grande Regional Hospital in McAllen, TX to one that is closer to Anna’s house Mission Hospital. My Patho teacher Mrs. Guillen actually worked with him.

he was a well renowned nurse in his field as well as a case manager. His colleagues all loved his personality and charisma. When they heard about the news they were all shocked, they didn’t believe that someone so charismatic and outgoing could do such a thing.

One day in February 2012, he went drinking with my uncle and Anna. He got drunk and got in a fight with them both, about? i wouldn’t know. He eventually left and called a taxi. He asked to go to a hotel, the Fiesta Inn on South 10th St, McAllen, TX. He purposely told the taxi driver the wrong name so that nobody could figure out where he was.

He tried to call my sister but she was away for a JROTC trip. so instead he called my grandma and asked to talk to me. He told me that it wasn’t my fault and that everything would be okay now. i asked him what he meant and he told me that i was the best thing that ever happened to him. i still didn’t understand what he meant until he told me that he had taken 900ml of Oxycodone. I asked him not to do it and to get help, but he just said that he loved me and hung up. I hurriedly called my grandma and told her what he had told me. She called my grandpa and he called the hotel room. My father answered, my grandpa asked if he was okay and said that they had plans to go fishing the next day. My father said that it was a deal and asked my grandpa to pick him up the following morning. At this point i had believed that i imagined the phone call and that it was going to be okay. The next morning my grandpa was taking me to Wall-Mart to buy a new sketchbook. When we parked, he got a call from my grandma, she said that there were detectives at our house and that my father had committed suicide. We hurried back to the house and were informed about the incident. I didn’t cry until the funeral. i couldn’t. I still miss my father and i don’t think that i will ever stop missing him. His death was extremely hard on my family as a whole, but it is also a reminder that even the happiest people, could still be hurting inside.

    R.I.P Dad.

Continued..

    When I was 4 years old, my mother fled. She took us to a cabin in the woods in Willard, Ohio where we stayed for two years. At that time I thought it was a vacation, but now I know it was to hide us from my father who was trying to gain sole custody. My mother was abusive, and she along with her boyfriend would cues me and my siblings psychological and physical anguish. She was on drugs and never cared for hers or our personal hygiene. We lived in a small cabin with no beds, AC, or even a restroom.
     Eventually, we left. And we went back home. My grandmother would take us shopping due to our lack of clothing for school. When we would bring them back, my mother would throw them on the floor for the dogs. She despised my father and everyone associated to him.
     When I was seven, my father gained sole custody. He brought us down to McAllen, Texas where he and his fiancé were living. After they got married, we moved to a bigger house in southern McAllen. Two years passed and my stepmom got pregnant. This caused her to lash out at us and our father. We moved to San Juan, Texas, where we lived for two years more. My father separated from my stepmom and we stayed in San Juan along with him.
     My father eventually met a woman from his job named Anna. She and her daughter lived in Mission, Texas. We would visit them and stay for weeks at a time. Anna was a nice woman who took care of us and spoiled us, she would never yell at us or cause us pain. The only problem however, was she caused my father to start drinking again.

To be continued.....

(this picture was taken by Anna in summer 2011)

My father, was a great man. You could say he was a hero. But he suffered, despite all of his suffering, he remained resilient. My fatter was the strongest person I knew, still is.

Paul Gonzalez, was born on July 8th 1774. He was born to my grandparents Irma Gonzalez, and Ramon Gonzalez. He grew up in a poor family, but he never complained about not having as much as the other kids. He was the tallest out of his two brothers and was usually found intimidating. despite his appearance, he was the sweetest person you would ever learn to know. When he was in high school, he met my mother Deborah Shears. They fell in love and eventually, she got pregnant with my brother Stephen. During her pregnancy, my father left to the army. And when he arrived, he was greeted by his son and wife. Two years passed and they were expecting another child, my sister Asia Marie. My father was stationed in Fort Polk Louisiana. And while my mother was there to visit, my sister was born. He soon left and joined my mother in Ohio where they stayed as a family, it was picture perfect. But things went downhill from there. Four years passed and my mother was pregnant again, this time with me. When I was only 1 year old, they divorced. My father got split custody and would see us on weekends and sometimes weeks at a time. I always preferred my father over my mother. And I believe it is obvious why.

To be continued...
(the picture is of the grave only due to the rules of the cemetery not allowing pictures with the graves)