My Hero

The Hero of Our Story

Growing up, I didn’t fully understand the strength and wisdom of my grandfather, a revered medicine man in our community. To us, he was simply "Grandpa, or Cheii " the man whose presence could fill a room with warmth and reassurance, whose stories and teachings were like woven threads connecting us to our past and guiding us toward the future.

There’s a photograph I cherish: he’s holding me during a birthday party, his arms strong and steady, his smile radiating pride. It’s a snapshot of innocence and support, a reminder of the bond we shared. Little did I know that years later, I would help hold him up in his later years, returning the love and care he had shown me. Life has a way of completing its circles.

My grandfather was more than a family member; he was a pillar in our community. People sought his guidance not just for healing but for his wisdom—a voice of reason and understanding in a world often filled with chaos. His words had a way of grounding you, of reminding you where you came from and why that mattered. He taught us that while the world changes, our roots remain the foundation of who we are.

When I think about his teachings, one that resonates deeply is his belief that we sometimes need to leave the comfort of home to find our opportunities. It’s not easy, he’d say, to step away from the familiar and adapt to a world that moves fast and often seems disconnected from our traditions. But he believed in growth and in finding strength in change. “Wherever you go,” he would remind me, “you carry home within you. You carry the teachings of those who came before.”

Now, as I start a new chapter in my life, finishing school and stepping into the opportunities he spoke of, I feel his presence in everything I do. It’s hard without his voice to call on, his words of encouragement to lean on. There are days when I wish I could sit with him just one more time, hear him tell me how proud he is or remind me that I’m capable of weathering any storm.

But even in his absence, he is still here. His teachings, his stories, his unwavering belief in the strength of our family—these are the things that carry me. He lives on in the decisions I make, the values I hold, and the hope I have for the future. He taught me that resilience isn’t just about surviving; it’s about thriving, about finding ways to grow and adapt while staying true to yourself.

In our culture, medicine men are healers, but they’re also heroes. My grandfather was both. He was a hero who didn’t wear a cape but carried the weight of our community, offering wisdom and healing wherever it was needed. And while his physical presence is no longer here, his spirit remains a guiding force in my life.

As I look back on that photo of him holding me, I’m struck by the irony and beauty of it all. He held me then, and I held him later. And now, in a way, we hold each other—his teachings lifting me up, my actions honoring his memory.

To my grandfather, my hero: Thank you for your strength, your wisdom, and your love. You showed me what it means to live with purpose and to carry our traditions forward into a world that often feels far removed from them. Your words remind me to keep going, to keep growing, and to always remember where I came from.

I am trying to push forward from a very difficult year of 2024 with my family. His words and voice was well heard recently. i hope you enjoy this blog. it is very personal and dear to me. and as always thank you for reading.

cheers!!