I believe in the importance of having a hero. Heroes give us all hope.
Contrary to the belief of most seven year old boys, a hero does not have to wear tights, fly, or have the ability to walk through walls. My hero is my father. Everything about my dad’s life inspires me to be the absolute best version of myself. My dad grew up in a rough neighborhood in Queens, New York. He didn’t have a big house, nice cars, fancy clothes, or attend private school. He had an old apartment, he walked to the local public school, and he wore whatever clothes fit him from the previous year. My dad didn’t need material things to make him happy; all he needed was the love of his family and friends to keep him going. He worked hard all throughout school to attend a prestigious college in Atlanta, Georgia, then he was accepted to New York University Medical School. He was a team doctor for the Patriots, and he later worked at Harvard University. My dad was making his way to the top: something he had never known as a youth. Every single day of his life, my dad persevered and fought to overcome tremendous barriers to reach his goals. My dad makes me want to be a better person; he makes me want to excel.
Over 16 years ago, my dad’s father died. I don’t remember my grandfather, but whenever my dad speaks of him, his face lights up showing the love and respect that he had for his father. And when my dad’s mother died four years ago, I could see the pain in his eyes. Her passing had taken a piece of his heart, but he had to remain resilient. I never saw him cry when he buried his mother, but I know how much it hurt him. My dad is strong.
The trait that stands out the most about my father is his generosity. My dad works five days a week so he is able to provide for his family. I have never met someone who is more reluctant to spend a penny on himself, and more willing to help anyone who needs it. My father is my role model, and I would be blessed to take after him. If he can do it, why can’t I? My dad is my superman.