Have you ever thought about if you have a hero? Like, right now, in this moment, think about that word – hero – and who comes to your mind?
When we are little, we have the standard issue Superheroes. Superman, Batman, and my personal favorite, Wonder Woman. (Side note: we need more women superheroes, but that’s another story…) (Side side note: Wonder Woman is THE best super hero, still).
As we grow up and learn that fictional heroes are, you know, fictional, we start to look around for real life heroes. Maybe a celebrity who embodies our idea of perfect, or an author who inspires us with a book, or closer still, teacher who helps shape us and our view on the world. As our scope on the world grows, we begin to realize that heroes actually come in all forms. And that’s what I’m thinking about today.
I have a student that I have worked with for about three years. He is 10. Soon, he will undergo surgery because, among other things, there is a hole in the wall of his heart. When he was born, the doctors didn’t think he’d ever be strong enough to have this surgery. Yet, here he is, about two weeks away from one of the most important days of his young life.
This little man has struggled through most of his days. It’s hard for him to breathe because his lungs don’t function properly, so he isn’t able to participate in many of the activities most 10 year old children can. He has to watch from the sidelines. I’ve watched him watch, many times, as the other kids run out to play for recess or PE. Most kids complain about PE, right? But you should see they way he looks at them; all he wants is to be able to run and play alongside the other kids.
Dominick is my hero. For the way he has fought every single day of his life, just to be here. For the way he endures lungs that don’t cooperate, the medication he must take just to be strong enough to walk, and the shitty way that medication makes him feel. For the way he accepts that this is the hand he was dealt, and that he can’t run and play at recess or PE. For the way his spirit stays up most of the time, even when he doesn’t feel well, because that’s just who he is. For the light and laughter and love he has brought to my life, every day since I’ve known him. I’m telling you, this kid is a treasure. Everyone should have a Dominick in their life.
And then, there’s Ron. Nine years ago, my brother Ron passed away unexpectedly. He had just turned 39, not even a month before. Ron died of a heart attack. At thirty-F***ING-NINE.
Ron was a hero. Not just MY hero, but a BONAFIDE, ACTUAL HERO. He was a fire fighter, the Chief of our local volunteer fire department, and he had been working there since he could drive. His funeral was the most breathtaking thing I have ever seen – the processional from the fire station to the church went on for at least two miles. Children and adults lined the streets as we drove by, saluting my brother. The church wasn’t big enough; they had to set up screens in an overflow room just to hold all the people who came to say good-bye. It was astounding to my family and me. To know he had had that kind of an impact on so many others, well…it brought us a comfort we didn’t know we would find after such a devastating loss.
Ron was a hero, for real, though. Many times, he saved lives when he was off duty. Once, a Greyhound bus crashed off northbound HWY 101 in the early hours of the morning as Ron was driving home from work on southbound 101. He didn’t hesitate – he flipped his car around, was first on the scene and climbed UP ON THAT BUS to help survivors get out. And that’s just one example of how he went above and beyond to help others. He was a hero in his bones. He’d been crazy about fire and emergency his entire life – I used to have to play the victim when we were kids so he could pretend to “lift me up on the gurney” (folding lawn chair), or bandage my “broken head”, or “bring me back to life when I stopped breathing” (and he really did simulate mouth to mouth…but once and ONLY ONCE!) Ron is gone, but still my hero.
Ron is gone. And that means that, nine years ago, my mom and dad lost their son. What parent can imagine surviving such a devastating loss?
My mom, Jerry, and my dad, Allen are my heroes every single damn day. That they can still get up in the morning and will their feet to touch the earth, and not only go about *a* day, but to go about it and still choose to find joy is the most heroic thing I have probably ever witnessed. They still choose to find reasons to laugh. They still go into the world bravely. They still allow themselves to feel love, and to give love, and they do it even though they’ve suffered a loss so big, it surely crushed part of their souls. Any parent who has lost a child, in my opinion, is the truest of any heroes we might have. Mom and Dad simply blow my mind, earn my respect, and will never know how much love and gratitude I have for the pair of them, not only for the way they have lived their lives since my brother passed, but also for the way they raised us. Amazing people, my parents.
A hero is defined as “any common person, placed in uncommonly difficult circumstances, who displays uncommonly noble character”.
Do you see what I mean? Dominick. Ron. Mom and Dad. You are my heroes. Each one of you has taught me something about the resilience of the soul and our capacity for endurance. I am filled with wonder and admiration for your strength, your bravery, and your fortitude.
And my heart spills over with love and gratitude for all of you.
May we all find such qualities within ourselves…
