Romans & histoires Poem On My Father My Hero

I felt like my legs weren’t working. The feeling that my kids are in danger because of this bloody property makes my blood freeze. This new information has broken me to the core. A father is always a hero to his daughter. The first man she loves and the first man who truly loves her Perhaps you should look at me. My father is the one man I started to hate the most. He is the person I am going to hate till my last. My protector has become my tormentor. Collecting myself all together, I said, "So, what do you want from me now?"

“To protect me. To give me a life without wondering why I wasn’t good enough for you.” His mouth opened, but I lifted a hand. I needed to say this. I had to say it. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up believing your father was a hero?” My voice wavered. “Do you know what it’s like to picture a man in uniform, dying bravely for his family, while the truth is that he just… walked away?” “I never wanted you to think-” “I don’t care what you wanted.” His breath hitched.

At just five years old, he had grown too big for his age. He understood so much more than I wanted him to, and I realized I couldn’t hide the truth about his father forever. “It’s about the men who saved us. They are my heroes, Mommy, and I want to be like them when I grow up.” Tears welled in my eyes at his earnest declaration. Blood, they say, is thicker than water, and today, that quote resonated deep within me. He was so innocent, yet so aware of the danger lurking around us.

"It is beautiful," "Yeah. My dad built it." My heart picked up, making me look at him. He is looking around. "He loves places like this." Me too. I love places like this too. "He must be creative," I said. He scoffed. "Creative is an understatement. My dad is incredible." I stared at him. "My biggest dream since I was a kid is to be just like him. He is my hero." I lowered my gaze as the Don filled my head.

"That's up to you but you have to choose. Is it this family? Or the other one?" My heart started to beat rapidly. I couldn't believe that my father was capable of doing something so horrendous. He was my hero, the one man I looked up to. He was my representation of everything that a man was supposed to be and now in a matter of seconds, all that had vanished. "Please don't make me choose." My father said.

The love I have for this man who has always been there for me is overwhelming, and as he hugs me back, I know now that everything will be okay, as long as I have him by my side. “Daddy was my hero, and no one could ever replace him. But you’re my hero too,” I say as I sob. “You’ve been a father to me when my own couldn’t, and I hope it’s okay, but the only thing I want to call you from now on is Dad.” He hugs me tighter, and I can hear him softly crying. “I’d like that, daughter,” he says as he pulls back and wipes the tears from his eyes with a broad grin.

I cleared my tear filled eyes as I walked to the stage to read my speech . " Hello everyone. I'm Riley Essah . I appreciate you all coming out to celebrate the life of my father. My father was an incredible person. He was not only the best role model but he did a lot of voluntary work in his free time. My dad's most notable feature with his height. He was over six feet tall and you would think his towering presence would be intimidating but he was one of a kind and a wonderful person I learnt so much from . In his time on earth he helped so many children through charity events and put smiles on so many faces . One important lesson I learnt from my father was to stand up for myself , to l

My father said sternly to Al. "It wouldn't have been as fun as this..." Al winked, and my dad gave him a soft nod, understanding that we wanted to surprise them. "Come over here..." My father said, and I moved away from my mother's soft embrace to the tight hug my father gave me. "I missed you..." He whispered, and I buried my face in his chest. This embrace was familiar, protective, and secure. My father was always my safety net, and I adore him. He is the best father a girl could have. For many, a father is their hero while they are little girls; for me, my father was my hero always and forever.

She offered a hand to pick me off the floor but I couldn't accept it. "My father...died because of me...!" I wailed out as I missed him so much. "Your father is a hero.." she muttered in my ear. I winked my eyes a bit as her words made me stop tearing up for some time. "My father is a hero..?" I pondered in my heart. I sighed madly and sit beside the wall to push my legs toward me. Each time..I give out huge sighs...

My thoughts pushed away by my father worried voice, “Sweetheart. Are you okay ??. Have you got injured anywhere ??” I nodded blissfully and replied to my father in jovial tone, “Appa, I'm perfectly fine. This hero caught me at the right time, so I did not get any injuries. And he looks like a hero. Much handsome. My hero.” I pointed my hands towards him and whispered last few sentences and looked at him idolizing who is standing little away from me. My father patted his shoulder and told him,