Tribute To My Hero

Tribute To My Hero

A Story by Princess

        I was dead. No really, I was. When a four year old girl plays a game that she happens to die in, she really did die. I ate the poisoned apple and waited impatiently for Prince Charming to come along and rescue me. However, my timing proved horrible for when I chose to die, and also my location appeared very inconvenient, as it so happened that dinner gets prepared in the kitchen. Mom told me to move and when I informed her that moving seemed like an impossibility because I was, in fact, dead, she took my feet and dragged me out of the kitchen. Appalled that she awoke me from my sleep when she wasn't my prince, I stood up, brushed myself off, and very forwardly told her to, "Stay out of my games, Mom."  

 

       It was some years later that I looked back on this incident and how it was her fault Prince Charming never came. But the more I thought about it, the more I wondered how she had the ability to wake me if I was so dead. I was convinced that she had to be a fairy godmother. She was perfect. For every sort of incident like such I've found beauty in it, and that has made my mother my hero because she unconsciously imitates superwoman.   

 

      Superwoman is said to have magical powers and is apt for saving the world. Quite frankly, so was my mother, which I didn't understand until she passed away when I was fifteen. I remembered once in my preteen years when I had told her I hated her because at that time I didn't understand the significance of gratitude. Before she passed away I never realized how much she did, I always just told myself that she didn't care. Now when I look back I wonder how I missed the fact that she had superpowers and secretly controlled the world. One week before she was diagnosed with cancer she told me that God didn't make her special and didn't give her any gifts. I smiled at her and shook my head. "Mom, God sent you here to be a counselor," I told her. Heck, everyone I knew went to her for advice. My mom denied this and gave herself a pity party. She just didn't understand she was superwoman.

 

        My mother started working her magic on me when I was just little. One time I had a fight with my younger sister and I had developed a horrible habit of biting. When my sister confronted my mom about this and showed her the proof of my horrendous deed, my mom looked at me and calmly said, "Hannah, let me see your arm." I pulled it behind me and shook my head, and very calmly she asked again. This time, with much hesitation I handed it over because saying no to mom was like setting a bomb off in the house. The truth was that she probably didn't bite me nearly as hard as I had bit my sister, but I never bit anyone again. That was the thing with my mom. The way she solved problems was by showing rather than telling.   

 

      Being the ninth of ten children I always felt misplaced and forgotten because Katie was the baby and I was just the spoiled brat middle child diagnosed with Only Child Syndrome. One day I was ranting off to my mom on my huge dilemma about whatever drama I had going on the time and she just looked at me and went, "Oh woof," which meant in the most sarcastic way possible, "Woe is you, would you like me to rub your feet and feed you ice cream?" She taught me that there was more to life than middle school grudges about my best friend that, deep down, I knew I wasn't going to care about in a week anyway.  

 

       As I said before, Katie was the baby and got all the attention. She was the one Mom would always tell her friends about and only once that I recall was she excited about my accomplishment- winning third place in a short story contest. Even though it wasn't until after I won that she bragged, I didn't mind because truth be told, the drama that was going on with all my older siblings was everything compared to what was going on in my life. Only my oldest brother graduated high school out of eight older siblings. I recall the day my mom was upset about this, thinking she was such a horrible mother and that it was all her fault that all her kids had chosen the wrong paths. Another day she came home with a smile on her face as if there was no worry in the world. She told me a story about how one lady had been bragging about how all her children had graduated, gotten married, and all turned out to be successful people. My mom, upset with the fact that she was being indirectly stomped on, turned around to the lady and said, "Well then, God must not have trusted you very much." The woman shut right up. I understood that my hero was doing the best she could and it wasn't through her actions that her kids were being stupid, it was her kids and she believed firmly that God trusted her to get them in line.

 

        It was amazing the things that woman could do. For all of it she became my hero, the person I most admire and look up to in this world. If I could be anyone, she's the one I would choose to be. After she passed away, my best friend's mom made the comment to my dad, "These high school pictures of her look just like Hannah." I took pride in that and I never truly understood why because I always told myself when I was younger that I would never be like my mom. When I realized that I had taken everything for granted, I understood that I wanted to be just like her. Less than a month after she had left this world, I was so angry at everything and how I always felt like I never really got to know her. Then, my aunt told my whole family something I will never forget.

 

        "As you guys know, your mom and I talked a lot. I remember specifically one of the last things she said to me. She told me that one of her kids had told her that her job on this earth was to be a counselor to everyone, and even though it wasn't straightforward, your mom has that gift of compassion." I felt myself build tears up in my eyes because in that moment I understood that each and every one of her kids were important and that my mom saved the world. One thousand people turned up to the funeral of a homemaker, in comparison to the three hundred that came to that of a firefighter's who passed away within a year after. She was so convinced that nobody would go to her funeral when she passed away because she was ornery and thought nobody would care. Honestly, that's what makes her a hero. The fact that she affected so much more than she'll ever know and that I strongly believe that one woman changed the whole world. She taught the world gratitude, accomplished everything even when I didn't notice until everything needed to be done all the time, showed me respect and how to treat others rather than just telling me, and still leads me today. If nothing else, she just loved me- and there's nothing more heroic than that.

© 2009 Princess


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Now this was a very different piece from what you usually write. And I really loved reading it. It had strong, powerful, conveying emotions and it really touched me. Mothers are indeed miracle workers. I'm sure she would be proud of you for writing such a glorious story. Great work.

Posted 14 Years Ago



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Added on October 24, 2009
Last Updated on October 24, 2009

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Princess
Princess

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