What is a hero? When we think of heroes we think capes, super strength, super speed, masks, suits, but we don't think of the hero that may walk beside us everyday.. My hero is my father. He didn't have super strength but the love he had for our family was definitely a strong one. He didn't have super speed but he was so quick to help out anyone who needed it. He didn't have a cool mask, but boy that smile of his could light up the world if we'd let it...My father passed away of a heart attack in June of 2013. When I was seventeen, I lost my superhero. This world will never be the same again and unfortunately many people won't get the chance to meet this incredible man. The best I can do is make it so they can know him through words. My words. So, here is my story.... An angel in Heaven now but was always an angel on Earth.. meet my father..

If my father could meet every cartoon character he would. He loved them. Every shirt in that closet we put away after he passed smelled of his happiness. He loved laughing. I can still hear his laugh. I can still see him sitting there watching his favorite cartoons and enjoying life and those little moments just felt so right to him. I remember the silver Mitsubishi Galant and I remember the Gold Chevy Impala he drove. I remember our small adventures. We'd drive every Friday after school to pick my mother up from work. I'd write in my books in the front passenger seat until we'd arrive and I'd move to the back. But the ride there was everything to me. I couldn't wait to get out of school just to

go with him. He was my bestfriend. I'd play my music in the car and the music he'd hate. The only music his ears would open up to was Barry Manilow and the songs I'd compose. I loved showing my parents my music. I've always wrote songs and always loved singing them. My mother would tell me how amazing my music was, and my father would tell me the same only it was different. He'd tell me what I needed to fix. He'd listen and REALLY listen. Because he loved music. Just like me. He loved singing and writing music. Just like me. So he knew when I needed to fix a certain bump in my voice and at the time it seemed harsh. Now I understand it. His advice made me improve. He'd listen to my music in the car and turn it up. He'd say "wow, YOU wrote this"? He was so impressed. He'd tell everyone about it. He was my number one fan.

Anyone that knew my father knew how silly he was. Laughter was his medicine and he was so funny that his medicine could cure us too. We'd call his jokes dry humour, but he always made us laugh. Whether it'd be his passing gas in the room constantly or cracking corny jokes and doing goofy dances...we laughed. We always laughed. 'Cause he was the light in every dark room. As my brother Kenny told me in an interview,
"what made him special was how he was always himself. How he would act so funny, he was like a big kid in that way. But we loved this." -


All heroes have strengths. All heroes have weaknesses. What were my father's? My father had small anger issues. Just little bursts of anger at small things sometimes. I guess that was one of his weaknesses. He had way too many strengths to even think of every one. That's what makes him the greatest. In an interview with my sister Kristal, I asked, -
"What were daddy's strengths and weaknesses?"
My sister replied,
"His strength was always remaining calm and strong in any situation life threw at him. He always put family first... He didn't have many weaknesses because he was the strongest man I've ever known.."

His greatest weakness was probably his heart. It was a strength because he could fit the whole world in it. But it was also a weakness because of the pain he experienced with heart issues he did not deserve. My father had a heart attack when I was young. He had to have a heart defibrillator put into his chest for the remaining years of his life. This affected alot of things. It held him back from doing certain things which really was a downfall for him. But no matter what obstacle he faced in life, the smile never faded. Even when he had a stroke two years before he passed.
My father was a fighter and he fought hard. He didn't need a suit of armor. He didn't need big muscles or powerful weapons. He was incredible. He fought so hard until his final fight, which he lost unfortunately due to his heart.

My father and I loved to mess with each other. We'd go shopping in a store and he'd pull my hair while walking behind me or I'd push the shopping cart just enough to lightly hit his ankles. Then he'd turn around and curse and yell. I'd grab a blanket off the couch but made sure it would meet his face in some way. He'd shout in stores and embarrass me. He'd say "hey is that the guy you have a crush on?" I'd die of embarrassment. I loved pushing his buttons and he loved pushing them right back. But those moments were somehow some of the best. What I'd give to go back in time for such a connection.

My father was a lover. And I've never seen anyone look at a person the way my father would look at my mother. His love for her was beyond words. He would've done anything for her. Even if it was something he didn't like. As my brother Billy told me in an interview,
"He loved his family. That was his biggest strength."


My father adored my mother, but he also loved his children. He took my sister and brother in when they were only toddlers and helped my mother raise them as his own. He was an amazing person, especially an amazing father. In an interview with my sister, she said,
"What made him special? I can go on and on but what made him really special was that he fell in love with mommy knowing she had two kids and took us in as his own. We were never his "step" kids. We were his kids. He'd always introduce me as his daughter. Never his stepdaughter..."
He treated all his children equally. But his girls were special.

My father loved football and baseball. He loved watching the Philadelphia Eagles play football on Sunday nights. He'd order pizza and wings to the house and fill our home with excitement. He'd watch the Phillies play baseball in his team shirt and hop up with joy when they'd get a home run. My father was a sports fan and always supported his home teams. But more than this, he supported his children. Our dreams were his dreams. Whatever we aspired to be, he and my mother guided us in acting on it. The thing I loved most about my father was how confident he was in believing my goals and dreams. He believed in me. He inspired me to keep going and to do what I love.

My father was a hard working man. He worked six days a week providing for all four children, plus my mother, plus himself. He was tired but would still do things that needed to be done. He'd do the dishes for my mother knowing she cooked for us. He'd take the laundry to the laundromat knowing my mother was cleaning the house. He always helped her. They were sidekicks. He always wanted to help in any way he could to help make her job as a mother and wife less stressful. My father was a phenomenal human being. He met life and knew how hard it was so he took it with his own two hands and worked it, lived it, and loved it. What could possibly be more genuine and heroic than this?
My father was well-mannered. Anytime you'd see him he'd have his shirt tucked into his jeans. He'd have a pair of white new balance sneakers on and a shirt with Homer Simpson on it or one of his other favorites. Peter Griffin, SpongeBob, Courage the cowardly dog, Johnny Bravo, Stewie Griffin, etc. That man had so many favorites. My father always held the car door for my mother. He always said please and thank you and he'd call other men "Chief" and other women "Miss or M'am".


My father was very good-hearted. He'd make friends everywhere he'd go. They'd end up laughing too. His humour travelled around. He had such a big heart that he'd feed the homeless and donate money to organizations that meant something to him. He always helped the police and fire unions. He always helped the elderly neighbors with groceries or a ride home. He always gave a warm and friendly welcome to others. He was a sweet sweet man. My father was kinder than soft words and sweeter than the sweetest piece of candy in the candy shop. He was a walking angel on Earth. And I bet the other planets were jealous.
I wish the world knew him. I wish that every little girl out there could have a father like mine. They'd never feel lonely. They'd never go a second unloved and they'd never feel insecure. Sadness wouldn't last very long because jokes and laughs would be right around the corner. You might have a hero. You might have a person that makes your world complete and fills every corner of your heart with love and safety. You might have a hero who lives where you are everyday and walks beside you. Someone you look up to. Someone who adores your every moment.
My hero is someone I loved and still love more than words can describe. My hero is someone I've known a whole seventeen years of my life who I'm still not really sure how to live without. My hero will never be forgotten. My hero will be talked about everyday like he's still right here. Because my hero is not some superman in a book. Because my hero existed. My hero is my father. My hero will always be my father. And the story of him needs to be told..

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