When someone asks you who your favorite hero is, you probably wouldn’t answer by saying your parents. I sure don’t, usually I’ll say Spiderman or maybe Captain America. But that’s not the truth, more specifically it isn’t my truth. If I’m being completely honest, my first and favorite hero is my dad.

Since before I was born, my dad always knew he was going to love me with all his heart. All the sacrifices, tough decisions, and sleepless nights he spent, were all for me. I remember learning about how my dad came to this country with my grandparents and his siblings looking for a better life for the future generations, knowing there were risks, and risking it all. Learning about how he dropped out of highschool to work to support his family, not knowing how it would affect him in the long run. He did all that for me, although maybe he didn’t know it then. Me being born was the best thing that ever happened to him, he even wrote me a letter! I remember times where I would wake him up in the middle of the night, asking him for piggy back rides and for him to stay up with me to watch those corny shows in Spanish that I couldn’t really understand but thought they were interesting anyways, and he would he would do it even if it was after a long day. The joy and excitement I felt every time he came home from work with a doll in his hand, tired but still willing to give me the world. Or, my favorite story, how my dad would go to the store and buy me a Tweety themed cake and balloons even though it wasn’t my birthday because he knew how much I liked to stuff my face with cake. We were each other’s everything, the sun, the moon, the stars, and more.

My sister was born on October 4, 2008. That day our lives changed, I still don’t know if it was for the better or worst. She was sick. The doctors only gave her a month to live. I still couldn’t understand anything besides the fact that my parents were sad, and I was alone. She went through so much in the span of a year, three organ transplants and multiple hospitalizations, during which my dad assumed the role of my mom. My poor mother was by my sister’s side the entire time. I did everything with him, from sleeping in his bed because I was scared, to going to work with him every single day. Oh, and of course complaining to him that I was hungry everyday after school. This went on for years. When I wasn’t with him I was at my grandparent’s house, or on rare occasions, with my sister and my mom.

When I was in elementary school, I would say I liked Batman, because that was, and still is, my dad’s favorite superhero. I didn’t really care for heroes when I was younger, I just knew the basics. They were people with superhuman abilities. But, I think my dad fits under that category. He has the ability to make me feel happy and joyful, even if I’m mad. He makes me feel safe, and warm, and loved. Although sometimes I may get angry or moody, I will always love him.

(TRANSLATED) Our Baby

Today I write these words for my child, who is on the way. I can say that I feel like the luckiest man in the world to have been able to find a woman like my wife. She has returned my happiness. I’m happy about everything, how things have turned out. Now, I only care about my child, who I already feel like I love so much, and who I know I will love even more when they are with me. I wish more than anything for my baby to be born. So I can hug, caress, and kiss it and be able to share them with the world. A child is the best thing that could have ever happened to me.

~My Hero