A hero is not a comic book character or a cartoon character. Nor does a hero possess supernatural powers. A hero does not hide behind a physical mask, but behind one of courage and humility, and is unrecognizable to most. He is not boastful, nor is he particularly proud. A hero lives and dies with silent honor.
A hero is a mother angry at injustices as she watches her baby leave for war. She is quick-tempered, strong and a force even God could not conquer. She is noble and inspiring as a stranger in uniform breaks her heart. She cries, screams and yells at God asking why. Her unceasing tears will fill the earth with sorrow and a love so deep that it can not be understood. A hero is broken, wishing to see her child one last time, to hear his voice and say goodbye. A hero is a person full of hurt and loss, a broken mother and a woman made of courage.
A hero is a stranger leaving for war. He willingly walks into hell for undeserving and selfish people. He stands on the line to protect them and their way of life. He suffers so that they do not. He faces the devil each day while the world remains happily ignorant. He lays down his life for an ungrateful nation, knowing his place of death is a desert far from those he loves. He dies in obscurity without the public knowing. He dies a soldier, protecting the unknown with honor and character, and he dies a man protecting his mother, his freedom and me. A hero is not forgotten.
Dedicated to Jane Holmes, one of the most heroic women I've ever met, and her son, Sgt. Nick Patterson.
