As cliché as this is, I am indeed one of those daughters that thinks their dad is their hero. The difference is that out of the millions of heroic dads out there, I know that mine is the best.
Inspirational is an understatement when understanding all that he’s done. My dad is the kind of person that lives to provide and support others, and works hard without taking no for an answer. He also fits the modern day “zero to one hundred, real quick” quite well.
When he was a young boy in Syria, he worked on his father’s farm herding sheep alongside his brothers; in his free time, he would ace his school work. My father showed to have potential amongst his classmates. Upon graduating first in his class, he was offered to go to one of the top medical schools in his country, something he wouldn’t have been able to afford without being a scholar.
There, he excelled at met my mother. After college, he decided that he wanted more from life than living in a country that was still on the come up. He envisioned himself somewhere nobody thought he could go; as a doctor in America. After engaging my mother, whom he fell for in medical school, he decided to leave her and everyone else he had come to know in his few years of life at the time, and pave way for his future in America. He had to fight all odds and make a name for himself. He spent two years in Utah delivering pizzas and selling ice cream in a beat-up truck in order to pay rent. Ramen, snickers bars, and his air mattress became his best friends. After a while, he was able to accustom himself to the lifestyle in America (while finding time to call my mom on a payphone every day for 2 years #baegoals), and it was at that point that he pursued his residency and became an official certified doctor. He was able to welcome my mother to a furnished apartment, and the two of them started a family together.
After years of hard work, having children, and investment, my father now works in his own family practice alongside my mother, lives in a big house on a hill, drives a convertible, and has three daughters. Living the dream, am I right?
I am so glad to have someone so powerful in their own individualistic manner to raise me right. Even though for years I couldn’t see eye to eye with him, I knew he always had my best interest at heart. He’s a tough love kind of dad, the kind that would tickle your back and stroke your hair until you fell asleep each night, but also keep you on the path to success if you strayed away from it, even if that required some shouting.
And the times that I have failed, made mistakes, or felt like my life was one big downward spiral, he’s been the one to remind me that making mistakes is part of growing up. The times I’ve felt so down and depressed, he’s been there to remind me about all the little things to be grateful for. The times I felt lonely and lost, he’s been there to tell me that there will always be a spot in his home for me. The times I’ve crossed the line one too many times, he’s been there to keep me grounded. The times I’ve came home hours after my curfew, crashed his beloved car, screamed at him about boys, forgot to call for weeks; he still welcomes me with open arms.
If his story isn’t a success story and a half, I don’t know what else is. All I do know though, is that he’s my biggest inspiration, and that I’m so proud to have Ahmad Wardeh as my dad.