My Dad, My Hero

When I was born, I’ve been told, my father was so glad, that a little girl had been born to him, he held me in his loving hands.

My father took care of me, always so tenderly. He was there to teach, to comfort and to always watch over me.

My father’s love for me is steadfast and dependable, like a backbone in my life’s journey.

The safest place in all the whole world for me as a little girl was my father’s lap. There my soul would find peace and my heart consolation.

My father’s loving hands guided me, they held me through life’s stormy seas.

I grew older, yet from my father I never grew apart. The day came when he lovingly held my babies against his chest. And as it happens, time keeps rolling on so now he gently holds my grandbabies as I place them in his arms.

Not everyone who gets to my age has a dad to go visit, so I don’t take it for granted, but thank God for it.

Seven years ago, my dad was involved in a serious cycling accident which left him fighting for his life. When dad came home from hospital, his family gathered at his home to reflect on the traumatic experience and to share with each other. I took my turn to share how special dad had always made me feel, like I was the most important person in this word. To my surprise each one of my brothers felt that dad had made them feel the same. What an amazing father he has been to be able to make every one of us four to feel like we are noticed, loved, and cherished the most!

Our dad is gentle and caring. He loves us unconditionally.

Life has a way of coming full circle. Where once my father took care of me, I now take care of him. Where once he taught me about the world around me, I now help him to navigate his way.

It’s my turn to tenderly and lovingly take my father’s hand and watch over him. Because in this life, we are given gems to cherish and to treasure. Strong people stand up for themselves, but stronger still stand up for others. My father has always stood up for me, it’s my time to stand up for him.

The love and tenderness our father has showered us with, has been returned to him. Dad’s memory might be failing him, but he does not forget to worry or ask about his children, or to pray for them. He sits in his chair, with his hands crossed, while he talks to His Heavenly Father about us. The greater our need, the longer his hands remain crossed.

I cannot measure the value of such a blessing.

The world has many heroes, one more famous than the other. They have accomplished many wonderful things. Yet my dad might not be famous, you might not even know his name, but to me, he is my greatest hero, because he is everything a true hero ought to be.

Every moment I share with my father is one I’ll always treasure because the dearest father in all the world is the one I call my own. 

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