He got my attention with his comic books. I learned to admire those tragic heroes, who would ignore their personal suffering and issues to solve other people’s problems and save the world. He was as mysterious as the heroes. That uncle who had moved back in with my grandmother had a mystery aura. Later, I learned that he was divorcing my aunt. In that time, divorces were rare and everyone would talk about him with that pity look. That only would add a tragic aura. Besides, he had to travel on business a lot and that – for me – was as cool as having superpowers. While I grew up, my admiration level raised as well. He was the best: he would take us out; travel with us; bring pizza, candies and stories from the places he had been. When I was a teenager he became my role-model. Opposite to my father, he would never drink and always took good care of himself. Of course, like all the other heroes he was misunderstood. People would look at him and lower their voices, saying he would never recover himself from a divorce. They would look at his girlfriends in disbelief. But one of them, much younger than him, hit the jackpot and they got married. They had children and his daughter from his first marriage got closer. He could show everyone who had criticized him that his destiny wasn’t to be a lonely wolf. His destiny was to be a great parent. But his superpowers were there, just waiting the right time to surface: my grandmother, who had always been a power to be reckoned with – widow, she raised 4 kids all by herself – got very ill. Nobody could be more careful and gentle than he has been; surrounded by his beautiful family: wife, children and grandchildren he shows his true heroic identity and cries whenever he sees his mother in great pain. After all the true heroes are the ones who fight and win the battles life brings us without losing the ability of sympathizing with other people’s pain.