12 years ago I realized for the first time what my father did for a living. I saw a photograph of a fire fighter going up the stairs of one of the towers as all of the civilians were going down. My dad was retired by the time 9-11 happened. But that picture hit me in a place that can not be ignored. My father ran into burning buildings. Not because he wanted to be a hero. But to put food in my belly. And clothes on my back. He worked a ridiculous schedule... risked his life every second he put his uniform on... so I could have a video game. And he still found time for his 5 kids. Not just a provider. But the true meaning of a father. My only hope is that my son sees half the man my father is in me.
Posted on: Wed, 11 Sep 2013 13:54:20 +0000
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