My Hero
In my opinion, my hero would be my father. He was the one who went through so many worries about me when I was still in my mother’s womb and yet could still bring me up to who I am today.
A caring father, he would try to please me as much as he could. Although I maybe quite unreasonable at times, I know that deep down, he would always be there for me. There are a few incidents that remained vivid in my mind and to this very day, which makes me respect him even more.
When I was very young, my father brought my mother and I to Australia for a one-week holiday. I remembered being very excited and was running about in the airport. As we had reached the airport early, we decided to take a walk around. Being curious and mischievous back then, I ran about in the bookshop, picking up books and flipping through them with interest.
All of a sudden, I looked around and found myself surrounded by strangers. Panic swept over me and I placed the book back on the shelf and ran around, searching for my father. My heart sank when both my parents were nowhere in sight. Holding back my tears, I went back to the bookstore and out again, countless times.
Finally, my heart leaped for joy when I saw my father. Running to him, all the tears I’ve been holding back for so long flowed like rivers. What a relief!
There was also another incident which will remain in my memory for years to come. It happened when I was only five years old. I was very reluctant to go to school as my life back then was play, play, and more play with no worries in the world. I would always drag myself to school and wish for time to fly past so that I could go back home. In kindergarten, things were not so bad as there was also play time for us and I could remember myself playing happily with my friends.
But things got worse when I went to Primary One. I would cry non-stop and stay at home. My father had to sacrifice his work time to persuade me to go to school. Things came to a head when I locked myself in my room and refused to go to school one day. My father, frustrated and angry, took the key and unlocked the door. He took the cane and I received a caning I would never forget. My arms were red and sore and I wouldn’t stop crying. My father, seeing me in that state, sat down and said to me in Mandarin, “I saved so much money and worked so hard, it’s just for the hope of you getting a good job and be able to work hard.” After saying this, tears filled his eyes. It was the first time I saw an adult cry.
That night, I laid on my bed and thought everything through. After some time, I drifted into a fitful sleep. The next day, I went to school, willingly.
Another incident took place only last year. Bogged down by homework, I was at my wit’s end. Then, I turned to playing, hard. I would sit in front of the computer with my eyes glued to the screen and had lost all interest in homework. In addition, being a prefect didn’t help much, in fact it only stressed me out even more. My mother saw what was happening to me and tried talking me out of it. But that didn’t help at all, it only made me worse. After many scoldings, my mother had almost given up on me.
But it was my father who stood by my side and had never given up on me. His patience moved me and I finally managed to kick the habit. It was through his teaching and patience that made a difference to my life.
My father is the pillar that I can always lean on and for that, I’m very grateful to him.