My son once asked me if I had a hero.
He was six at the time—brimming with curiosity. Like a reflex, I said his dad and my dad. For so much of my life, I’d been taught to search for strength in men, prioritizing what they provide by societal standards, while dismissing my needs and feelings. So when I answered him, I spoke from that conditioning, not from my truth.
He frowned and said, “No dads.”
And in that moment, without meaning to, he freed me to think differently.
Years have passed since that conversation. My son is now 21, and we’ve had many heartfelt talks about who my true heroes are—and why. He has listened, asked questions, reflected, and even helped me uncover how the role models I once named weren’t actually aligned with the kind of strength I value now. That growth in both of us has been its own kind of healing.
One person who came to mind back then, and still does, is Martin Luther King Jr. His approach to truth and nonviolence has always resonated deeply with me. As a white woman, I can’t even fathom the courage it took him to stand up for justice the way he did. The impact he has made is instrumental.
Another is Dr. Bruce Perry. His research instantly connected with both my personal and professional understanding of trauma. One of his reflections that stays with me is:
His work helped me understand not only my clients, but myself.
After completing training with him, I learned of the devastating trauma he lived through—one that shaped the compassion and clarity he brings to his work. Rather than turning away, he chose to face the experience directly:
“I had to get in control of what had happened, instead of having the event control me… When anyone is traumatized, they’ve got to make that transition away from being a victim.”
That courage—to turn toward pain rather than away from it—has inspired my own path.
But the hero who stands above them all is my mother.
I had the profound honor of caring for her during the last four years of her life. Those years were filled with tenderness, deep connection, advocacy, laughter, and moments that shaped me in ways I am still discovering. In late 2024, she endured three excruciating weeks in the ICU while battling a flesh‑eating bacterial infection. Her will to live was so strong, yet she knew she couldn’t endure any more pain. She surrendered with a smile on her face and rallied for one more family party in her ICU room after being removed from life support. At that party, we laughed together as we shared stories about all the celebrations she hosted and all the caring and funny little things she did over the years. We were so celebratory, I worried we were disturbing the seriousness of the ICU. She died peacefully on December 15, 2024.
To walk alongside her during that journey—comforting her, honoring her dignity, witnessing her strength—was one of the greatest privileges of my life. We had the opportunity to heal past wounds together, and she was finally able to handle my truth more times than not.I plan to write a book about the depths of suffering and connections made as I witnessed her highs and lows throughout my life.
Another meaningful aspect of that chapter was the way my son stepped in to help. His presence, compassion, and steady support made him a vital part of her caregiving circle and a significant source of my strength. Watching him show up that way reminded me that heroism often looks like quiet love in impossible moments.
Now, when we talk about my heroes, our conversations have depth, understanding, and shared healing. We talk about leaders like Martin Luther King Jr., thinkers like Dr. Bruce Perry, and—most importantly—the passion, resilience, and love my mother carried until her final breath.
MLK wrote:
“Nonviolence… first does something to the hearts and souls of those committed to it. It calls up resources of strength and courage they did not know they had.”
Heroes come in many forms. Some write history. Some advance science.
And some—like my mother and my son—shape us quietly, lovingly, and profoundly, simply by the way they walk with us through life.
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Disclaimer
Positive Reframe shares resources with the intent of the positive progression of informed decision-making related to issues associated with emotional, relational, physical, and spiritual wellness. While I share personal and professional perspectives, my writings reflect my personal opinion and are not intended to substitute professional advice, diagnosis, and treatment thus the content shared on this page is for informational purposes only. This online medium does not lend itself to the level of detail and rapport building required for thorough assessment and therapeutic intervention. To make well-informed decisions that best meet your family’s unique needs, I highly recommend exploring and researching available options, consulting primary healthcare providers, engaging in respectful dialogue with friends and family as well as seek referrals from a trusted source for professional counseling. I am a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist in the state of Illinois, USA.