Personal Narrative: My Father's Drinking Problem

It was one of those frightfully cold mornings. One of those mornings where the snow fell in fluffy white tufts across the ground.
I walked out of my house and listened to the crunch of the newly fallen snow under my worn out boots. As I walked down the street to work I saw one of the newly invented automobiles. I think people were calling them cars. My family probably would never have enough money to afford one of the so called cars. Most nights Dad barely made enough money to put food on the table, but the main reason for that is dad's drinking problem. His drinking problem started when my brother died. Dad loved my brother. More than he loved me or mom and he showed it. We were a happy family before it happened, but dad has changed. He
As I’m walking down the street a few blocks away from where I work I step into a big snow bank. The snow seeps into my boots and sends a chill up my spine. Mom doesn't like it when I work because women really don't work that often, but I have to work since dad is spending all of his money on booze. I’m the only one around the house that really makes any money, but women don't get paid as much as men so I don't make a whole lot.
My dream is to move to America, and I will be going there soon to open up my own bakery. I have enough money to get ticks for my whole family to go, but it will be hard convincing them to come with me.
After work I rush home to tell my mom and dad that I had finally saved up enough money to purchase the tickets to America. My mother immediately agreed to go with me, but I had to spend a little time convincing my dad.
The next day we all rushed to the dock where our boat was getting ready to leave. As we rushed aboard I saw someone that looked familiar he had blond hair and dark brown eyes. I thought to myself is that Dean it couldn't be. Dean is dead, but his body was never found. I call Dean and the man looks at me. Then I am swept along by the sea of