My superman

In life, we all have heroes who define us. Their existence and presence makes us a better person and more often than not, we unconsciously inherent certain traits from these people. Because we regard them as our ‘heroes’, we try more and more to take something from them – a habit, a type of clothing, the way they walk and/or talk, their knowledge, their wisdom, their kindness, their ambition and so much more. As a result, we, in essence, are a fusion of so many personalities until the time we decide that this is it. This is who I want to be. This is what completes me.
In Pakistan, much like many households, I grew up watching my Father. Seeing him being the person he was, the way he talked, the way he dressed, the way he handled situations surrounding him, the way he tackled pressure, the way he took care of us, the way he provided for us, the way he made the most difficult of things look like peanuts, the way he always welcomed any request without showing what he was going through, the way he respected others, the way he guarded us from harm’s way, the way he sacrificed so much just so we could have the best life. I could go on for pages. Yes, I grew up watching my Father, my hero.
Everyone is proud to say that their Father is the best Father one could ask for. In the same manner, I am proud to call my Father the best Dad one could have. God has, indeed, been kind. I strive to become like him one day. I am what I am because of my Father. His love, support, teachings, values and so much more have made me the man I am today. If it’s possible, I don’t think the world has seen the likes of my Father. There is no one like him; nor will there be any like him. Then again, heroes aren’t born every day, are they?

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