“Superheroes”
I’m 6 years old, and there he was
my dad, my superhero.
The bravest when he looked for the monsters under my bed and behind the bookcase
The funniest bedtime stories at night, when I struggled to stay awake to hear one more story
The strongest when he would pick me up and swing me around in circles so I could fly
My dad was the blue sky that held the sun and the clouds
He always appeared on the sidelines to cheer me on, so I could feel like the hero
A man of exceptional courage, nobility, fortitude,
He was invincible.

But when I was 12 years old, there he was.
My dad
My superhero
There was no sun that day, not a cloud in the sky
It was broken cold and grey.
A tremendous feeling in the pit of my stomach as I saw him laying there,
in a hospital bed.
Every second felt like an hour, alone in that crowded hospital room
Superheroes are supposed to be invincible
He couldn’t check for the monsters anymore because they were not things living under my bed or behind my bookcase
The monster was the sickness that lived within him
So I told him a story, struggling in attempt for him to stay awake
A dad too ill to sit on the sidelines but all of the sudden I was sitting on the sidelines
and he was the one that needed a hero.
A thought that never entered my head
My dad needed my courage, nobility and fortitude
It’s hard to be a hero when your not ready to lose yours