I remember being in elementary school and always being asked who my hero was. Everyone in my life is important to me and has helped me out in some way, so my hero always seemed to change. I would write about my parents, my uncles, my grandma, or even a teacher, but 2016 changed all of that for me.

The end of 2016 going into 2017 was a pretty rough time. During this time, my grandpa had two procedures to get his leg amputated, something that I didn't know would start to change our family dynamic. I knew that these surgeries would affect his life, but everything that affected him turned out to affect me as well.

There were many months, most of which he doesn't even remember, where we helped him with his phantom pains or patiently tried to get him out of bed. The struggle was very evident to anyone that stepped foot in that house, but the love could also be felt from miles away.

There was a time where many of my family members were losing sight of hope, but I tried my best to believe that he would pull through his pain. I had seen him in and out of the hospital several times before, so I treated him as though everything would be alright.

Then there was the day when he got his new leg. And the first day he walked. And the first time I could hug him standing up. And every time after that when I talked to him on the phone in Spanish, played games with him, or just went with him to the park. The love in our family played a big role, but his strength and determination are what got him through to the better days.

My grandpa loves to tell me all of his stories about all the people he has helped and the bad people he has had to deal with, and all I get from those stories is that he has a heart of pure gold. I see a lot of myself in him, which he may not know, but he never fails to teach me how to be a better person, even if that's just by him telling me to put socks on because it's cold outside.

This past May, I finally graduated from high school and my grandpa was able to make it to the ceremony. He had told me multiple times that he didn't think he would make it, and even though I never believed him because I knew he could do anything, it was still the best moment ever to see him that day: happy, despite his leg situation.

Every moment with my grandpa leading up until now has shown me that a hero is not someone that saves the world. A hero is an imperfect person that fights for others, cares for others, and has the strength to make it through the hardest days with a smile on their face.

My grandpa makes me laugh like no one else, and even when his words may be lacking, he always has something clever to say. His passion for Spanish fuels my drive to continue learning and his stories about being a Mexican man in America pushes me to continue fighting his fight.

Mi abuelo es mi héroe, and I hope he knows that for the rest of his life. Although his surgeries changed the way our family functions, he's still the same persistent man he was when I was born, and I've come to really appreciate that. There is nothing I love more than when he gives me $2 bills just because he has them or when he plays his loud Mexican songs and asks for a cerveza.

He is a crazy, funny, and resilient man, but if I'm half the person he has come to be, I'll know I'm doing something right.