My Dad Was a Hero

My dad was a hero. He was a hero in a conventional way. He spent his career as a distinguished fire fighter helping others. I always new he had a lot of friends, but it wasn’t until he died that I came to understand the number of people who’s life he had influenced.

I am amazed by all of the notes that our family has received, talking about what a real friend he was, or the way he mentored a young fire fighter with a gentle hand and a solid butt chewing. Much like he parented me. I always thought my dad was a hero, and it had nothing to do with what he did at work every day. It had to do with the way he parented all of us kids, his children, and every other young person who passed thru our front door.

We all new that he loved us unconditionally, whether we had wrecked the car we weren’t supposed to be driving, or lied about being someplace we weren’t supposed to be. He ALWAYS loved us. We knew that. We knew that by the way he was there every time we needed to talk. We knew it by the way he would make 50 little pancakes instead of 5 big ones because to our 6 year old selves they always tasted better when they were smaller. We knew it by the way he allowed us to fail, but was always there to lift us up, with a wise word and a hug.

My dad was a hero. I am so glad to know that I am not the only one who knew.

- Megan