My father was my hero. He taught me the truest meaning of joy. He radiated from every inch of his being. My father was a fighter. Even though disease wrecked his body, he smiled anyway.

He taught me the meaning of story telling. Because of him, I understand the absolute importance of telling stories and telling them well. He could capture you with his smile and make you smile because it was contagious.

Dad didn’t take life for granted. He celebrated the good days. And he was patient and relaxed through the bad days. With humility he accepted the help that he knew that he needed.

I know my father was proud of me. I know my father loved me. I spend many days wishing to hear his laugh again. I miss forehead kisses and snuggles while watching television. I miss his crazy food experiments that ended in delicious satisfaction. I miss awful sci-fi movies and television shows.

There are days that I miss him so much.

But his legacy is a forever one. One that I hope to impart to the girls I nanny and my future hypothetical children.

Who is your hero?


2 thoughts on “Hero.

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