The reason I have two heroes is because these two people couldn’t have been heroes if they didn’t have each other. My hero is my father and my heroine is my mother. It wouldn’t be possible to say which one had more heroic qualities.
When I was about seven, my mum became the victim of passive smoking. She was diagnosed with lung cancer. It was a devastating time for the whole family. My mum started going to hospital every week, then every day, then, she would even stay there some nights. It was also deeply upsetting seeing my mother attached to all different kinds of tubes with fluids running through them. But seeing my dad give her the support she needed cheered me up a bit, and it gave my mum strength and courage which I began to see in her.
A year crept past, and I became eight. My mother’s condition began to worsen, so she had to travel to Canada for special treatment. My dad would go with her for support and to look after her. My older brother and I would have to stay with my aunt, my mum’s sister. The trips to Canada soon became routine, and we were staying at my aunt’s house quite often. It was very hard of course, being away from our parents frequently, but we never complained. We both knew how hard it must have been for our parents. But this situation opened my eyes; I began to admire my mum because of her bravery, and my dad also, because of his courage. I realised that my mum saw the courage in my dad as well, because seeing my dad this strong gave her strength too.
