The hero in every father

In one of my classes at school we are studying a book about the Heroes of Sports. Some of these are Magic Johnson and Bethany Hamilton who have faced adversity and surpassed all odds against them. I am truly inspired by some of the people I have read about in this book, but I look at heroes in a different way. You don't have to do miraculous things to be a hero. Sometimes you just have to do whats necessary with a smile on your face and kindness in your heart. Some people are dealt a terrible pile of cards and still in the midst of their trials find a way to be selfless. Sometimes you have to be exactly what your family needs when they need it, and protect them and love them no matter what. That's pretty heroic to me.

My french grandpa, Pepe, was an extremely compassionate and selfless man who was always running around after my sister and I when we were young. I'm sure the same story is true for my Dad as that was his son, let alone his two grandchildren who never slowed down. As a child you have an infinite amount of energy, and somehow my Pepe kept up with us. He would slide with us down the huge twisting slides at the park, or push us on the swings, or run after us as we played hide and seek. With me being such a playful child I wanted all his love and attention, and my sister having such a sassy personality demanded for it too. Somehow, he gave us both exactly what we needed. He was my favorite grandparent, because it seemed like he never wanted anything from me except kisses and hugs. He never asked me to pick up my shoes, or eat a certain food, he just endlessly loved me. He never complained. If he was tired, he never let on. He wanted us to be happy, every second we were with him, so he played and played. He let us jump on his back, mess up his hair, and have piggy back ride after piggy back ride. This was the beginning of me getting to see my Pepe's amazing heart that was full of such rare compassion and love that never faded.

I like to think that this is where my Dad got his playful spirit also. When my Pepe was not around, my sister and I still had that ridiculous amount of energy that never subsides during childhood, and my Dad filled the need of a playful counterpart. He would let us climb on his shoulders in the pool and throw us off of him. We would scream, "Daddy again, again!!!" He always complied until my Mom made him take a breather. Now thinking back, this may be why he has had to have shoulder surgery over the past few years. :) Nevertheless, he would work so hard providing for our family during the day, and still somehow have energy to play with us whenever we asked. We would always watch cartoons together, including Curious George. This happened so often that he called me George for a number of years while I was young. I loved the nickname, as it felt like something special between me and my Dad. I was such a Daddy's girl and loved giving him huge hugs and hearing him say, "Who loves ya baby?" I would take in his scent of Aramis cologne and become overjoyed when he would make us dinner. This is a funny memory as my Mom is the cook in the family, but my Dad would always give us the junk food or make us exactly what we wanted no matter what. Often this was macoroni and cheese, or a TV dinner which I absolutely adored. After all, he loved to make us happy and so he treated us every now and then even if that meant we couldn't tell my Mom! And isn't that what Dad's are for? Helping their kids break the rules sometimes, with silly little things, and saying its a secret? This inevitably made him the most awesome Dad in the world to me!

Even when we were growing up in my apartment complex he was always the coolest Dad because he would throw us down snacks and drinks from our 2nd floor balcony so we didn't have to go back inside. We would be outside all day long playing with friends and he would yell my sisters name or mine, and then follow it up with "15 minutes until dinner!" There are numerous memories I hold from my childhood about my Dad and my Grandpa that truly warm my heart as I think back on them.

Now as my sister and I hit our teen years it was no picnic for anyone in our family. My Dad gladly let my mom handle the whole puberty situation and girl drama that would happen on a daily basis. My Mom was usually the go-to person as I myself was becoming a woman, but my Dad still had a critical role in my life. He encouraged me and built my self-esteem the way a teenage girl needs it. He would tell me I was beautiful, smart, and all around perfect all the time. He never said anything negative about my appearance or personality. He only ever came down on me when he had to because I broke a rule or law. (haha...well not quite) But no matter how angry I would be at him for grounding me or giving me extra chores, I knew he did it because he loved me. If he didn't he wouldn't have cared enough to even make rules in the first place. No matter how long his hours were during the week, or how crappy his day was, he still would walk into the house and say to me "hey beautiful" and then walk over and kiss my Mom. He probably didn't realize it at the time but he was teaching me how much I'm worth as a woman, and how a husband should treat his wife. When my Dad would come home with flowers or a candle for my Mom, or do something out of the blue to show his appreciation for her, I truly noticed how love and marriage needs to work. We would joke as kids that my sister and I would never find a husband good enough for us because my Dad had set the bar so high.

As I grew up my Pepe continued to be the kind and compassionate man that he was when I was a child. He was selfless even when he was battling cancer, 8 different cancers to be exact, and would fight daily for his health. He would walk miles before the sun even came up to try to help his health situation, and do whatever the doctor ordered. I remember waking up one morning at his house and he was incredibly cheerful as always. He was singing a french song in the kitchen, and making crepes for me and my sister. He told me he had already walked his 2 miles and had been up since 5am. I looked at him in amazment and blurted out "Why do you do all that Pepe? That's so much work!" He replied very matter-of-factly in his french accent, "Because I want to see you girls grow up." At the time I was too young to quite fathom the weight of this statement. Instead of being truly touched and running into his arms for an embrace, my teenage self said "Yea, that's true" and proceeded to wonder how long it would be until those crepes were ready.  He would say things like this with such a genuine tone in his voice, that I never questioned the truth behind what he told me. Whether he was telling me about the weather or his life back in France, he was always so kind and honest in his words. Even when he was in Hospice he was asking the nurses "How are you" and caring about their lives. Who is that nice? Who can be that selfless when your that sick? To this day he is the most loyal, trusting, and selfless man I have ever met.


In every father that steps up for their family there is hero. The father who bites the bullet working a job he hates to provide for his family is a hero. The father fighting whatever cancer get's put in his path to stick around for his family is a hero. The father who adopts a child, teaches his daughters self-worth, or works on his marriage to keep it together is a hero. The father that plays with his kids until every muscle in his body aches is a hero. The father who wakes up at 1am to put out presents from Santa, who buys tampons, and who pretends not to notice that his little girls are growing up is a hero. The father who sticks around, rises to the challenge, steps up when it is needed, and still is a part of their child's life even when they are miles away is a hero.

To my Pepe, my Daddy, and the other fathers out there who have done this and more, thank you. 

Happy Fathers Day.