Heroes. People that help. People that inspire.
In this vast world, such people are often in need.
Well, the good thing is,
they're everywhere and
you can meet them right in your very house.
Heroes, as often characterized by a long age of dreaming, are people of superb qualities, standing out in the ordinary: they can be a fountain of wisdom and strength or a seed of hope in troubled times.
In my case, the man of all these things, is my father.
Ever since in my childhood, my father had been my model of greatness. One of the things that he has always had that amazes me until now, is his wide array of knowledge.
March 7, 1972, in a local hospital in Marinduque, my father came into existence by the name Ferdinand, a descendant of the Peralta and Lugtu clans, by my grandparents Alfredo and Maria Corazon. He grew up by the hands of the most time-trained people I have ever known, where he learned to become who he is now: a well-rounded person. He grew up learning to endure hard times, all the while tasting the fruits of their labor in their small, active farm. Even though his grades were incredibly high, he studied leisurely, and was well-known throughout his peers as a very smart and intelligent person, yet not having the privilege to be the valedictorian in their class. He also grew up being close to God, for their house was just a walk away from their church, and learned to sing and play music for Him. He grew up, absorbing all information and the fun in life, experienced difficulties and overcame them, and became a great person.
In short, he was amazingly molded throughout his childhood to his adulthood in being the best anyone can virtually be.
In almost all of our times together, I have asked him about a multitude of things, varying from the most senseless things to the utmost important ones, and almost every single one of them was answered. My boundless curiosity was always satiated.
And in the times when he wasn't able to answer my questions, he'll tell me: "Now, now, you can always look for it. Just because I can't answer it, doesn't mean you should stop looking for your answer. Just read and read; you'll almost certainly find what you seek. Now for the other things, you'll just have to think the answer yourself."
Heroes are known for a unique sense of capability to do things that may seem superior to others, and a great sense of responsibility. While perspective on heroes vary from person to person, I know the pattern goes for everyone: heroes are someone you look up with respect and value their existence.
My heroes exceed what fingers can count, for there are many great people in the world that I respect.
But for me, there is only one man, who rose above in my life with great distinction, with mind brimming with knowledge and white-streaked hair as a relic of wisdom.
My father.
In my case, the man of all these things, is my father.
Ever since in my childhood, my father had been my model of greatness. One of the things that he has always had that amazes me until now, is his wide array of knowledge.
He is my ultimate jack-of-all-trades man.
March 7, 1972, in a local hospital in Marinduque, my father came into existence by the name Ferdinand, a descendant of the Peralta and Lugtu clans, by my grandparents Alfredo and Maria Corazon. He grew up by the hands of the most time-trained people I have ever known, where he learned to become who he is now: a well-rounded person. He grew up learning to endure hard times, all the while tasting the fruits of their labor in their small, active farm. Even though his grades were incredibly high, he studied leisurely, and was well-known throughout his peers as a very smart and intelligent person, yet not having the privilege to be the valedictorian in their class. He also grew up being close to God, for their house was just a walk away from their church, and learned to sing and play music for Him. He grew up, absorbing all information and the fun in life, experienced difficulties and overcame them, and became a great person.
In short, he was amazingly molded throughout his childhood to his adulthood in being the best anyone can virtually be.
In almost all of our times together, I have asked him about a multitude of things, varying from the most senseless things to the utmost important ones, and almost every single one of them was answered. My boundless curiosity was always satiated.
It was in him where I found the things I wanted to do.
Growing up, I have always been taught by him in various aspects of life, in academics, and in hobbies. He was the one who had taught me how to play basketball, play the guitar, play the piano, read, eat a lot, and learn a lot. He laid the foundations of my character today.And in the times when he wasn't able to answer my questions, he'll tell me: "Now, now, you can always look for it. Just because I can't answer it, doesn't mean you should stop looking for your answer. Just read and read; you'll almost certainly find what you seek. Now for the other things, you'll just have to think the answer yourself."
And in times when my hurdles are just too big for me, he trains my legs to just jump over them.
He doesn't teach me to escape my problems when they're too serious that it can change my life. He teaches me to how to overcome it. Although it may come only in simple hints, his words become more than enough to help me. He rarely helps me directly, and that's what I like about him. It means that he believes in me, and that he wants me to grow independent. If we weren't here bonded by blood, and by chance we met and he taught me, it'll be like having Albert Einstein, Paul McCartney, and Michael Jordan to teach me in just one person.
My heroes exceed what fingers can count, for there are many great people in the world that I respect.
But for me, there is only one man, who rose above in my life with great distinction, with mind brimming with knowledge and white-streaked hair as a relic of wisdom.
My father.
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