“A great man died this week,” the pastor says to his congregation. Tears spilling from my eyes, my mind traveled back in time to when this “great man”, our family’s hero, died for my baby brother.
My mother, cooking a homemade meal for our family, watched her newborn baby boy fall asleep in his daddy’s arms. My loving father, tall and strong, took the baby to his which was situated in the back of our apartment. While my brother was sleeping, the three of us sat down to eat. Suddenly, the fire alarms rang causing an ear splitting blare throughout the entire building and the floor below us fell through just as my mother began running to grab her baby. The room we fell into was filled with black, curling smoke that seeped its way into my lungs. My eyes filled with hot tears as I searched for my parents...
While I was lost in these thoughts my mother reached for my hand. “This man,” the pastor continued, “gave his life for a baby boy.”
I remembered being pulled out of the apartment building by a firefighter. I was taken to a nearby ambulance where my parents were being treated. The EMT’s had to restrain my mother as sh she tried to break through them, screaming for her baby. The last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was a firefighter stumbling out of the flaming building and handing something to someone as he collapsed to the ground. That something he handed to someone was my baby brother.
The Pastor smiled and said “This man was a hero; willing and unselfish…” Tears still dripping down my cheeks, I closed my eyes and silently thanked the man who willingly sacrificed his life for my baby brother. He is our hero, and one day, I hope that I can be as courageous as him.