Personal Narrative: My Father's Hero
My father’s hero has always been his father, my grandfather. Under the influence of my dad and raised in a family where respect is one of the key elements, I’ve grown to love and respect my grandfather just as much. All that changed one night with just one phone call. One night, I happily skipped over to my dad’s room to show him my perfect scores on the math test, knowing that he would be proud of me and then give me a lecture about how I should keep it up and do even better. However, my dad was on the phone. Unwilling to interrupt, I stood at the door and found myself unintentionally eavesdropping on the phone call. It was obviously a call from my aunt. This was nothing unusual, my father liked to keep close in contact with all of his
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My father fainted at his job. I was worried something like that would happen. Even I knew that human bodies could not withstand that much stress. My mother, sisters, and I raced towards the hospital. He did it to himself, and I still couldn’t understand why. He woke up ten minutes later, but the doctor didn’t let him go until late at night.
I Skyped my cousin in China and she confirmed my grandfather’s death for me, because my father refused to believe it. My grandfather suddenly died because of a heart attack. Finally understanding my father’s grief, I decided to help him. I accompanied him on the long walks in the morning and stayed up with him late at night. Often talking to him about subjects that would cheer him up. Bringing him peanut butter crackers and pestering him to eat more and more and more.
Learning to show compassion for others and to experience the sorrow of losing someone changed me from that point on. Realizing that sometimes people don't lie to make themselves appear more desirable or appealing in front of others, but lie in order to mend their own heart. Growing up now, I realized that my father didn’t tell me about my grandpa’s death upfront for two reasons. He didn’t want to believe it himself and he didn’t want to make me sad either. His denial was to protect his own feeling and mine, but I thought it was still better to tell the truth, even if the truth is too hard to
My father fainted at his job. I was worried something like that would happen. Even I knew that human bodies could not withstand that much stress. My mother, sisters, and I raced towards the hospital. He did it to himself, and I still couldn’t understand why. He woke up ten minutes later, but the doctor didn’t let him go until late at night.
I Skyped my cousin in China and she confirmed my grandfather’s death for me, because my father refused to believe it. My grandfather suddenly died because of a heart attack. Finally understanding my father’s grief, I decided to help him. I accompanied him on the long walks in the morning and stayed up with him late at night. Often talking to him about subjects that would cheer him up. Bringing him peanut butter crackers and pestering him to eat more and more and more.
Learning to show compassion for others and to experience the sorrow of losing someone changed me from that point on. Realizing that sometimes people don't lie to make themselves appear more desirable or appealing in front of others, but lie in order to mend their own heart. Growing up now, I realized that my father didn’t tell me about my grandpa’s death upfront for two reasons. He didn’t want to believe it himself and he didn’t want to make me sad either. His denial was to protect his own feeling and mine, but I thought it was still better to tell the truth, even if the truth is too hard to