Everyone has a hero.

Sometimes they are literal with a flowing satin cape that shines like the sun. Other times, however, heroes don’t wear capes; or, they do and you just cannot see them.

My hero is one who wears an invisible cape. No one else can see it other than me. It doesn’t flow like a slight breeze but instead soars like a strong wind. Her cape shines; her cape is light yet vibrant pink.

What makes a hero? 

Is it fighting a bad guy or saving a town? Sometimes, yes, however, much of the time, a hero can be someone who radiates a strong attitude.

My hero has been through something that not many can get through. Her story is that of a miracle. 

She is a survivor.

In the early ’90s, my grandmother was told something that tears at the ears as well as the heart. She was told that she had cancer—breast cancer, to be exact.

While I was not around at that time, my mother has told me all about how powerful my grandmother was in keeping a positive attitude. She never gave up.

After surgery and radiation therapy—as well as high spirits—the cancer went away.

Years went by. My parents got married, my brother and sister and I were born, and we moved all over the east coast.

It wasn’t until 2006 that my family’s world came crashing down.

What they thought was gone forever came back. This time, not only did she need to have yet another surgery, but she also endured six rounds of chemotherapy.

However, from then on, she was cancer-free and hopefully will never have to go through what she did again.

My grandmother did something that is quite rare: she beat cancer—the being that was trying to tear her down—not only once, but twice. 

Not only did she do that, but she also never allowed for cancer to get to her mentally.

My mother tells me stories of how she never let it get the best of her. She always said that she would get through it—that she would beat cancer.

And, she did.

So, what makes my grandmother my hero?

Well, if that’s not enough for you, allow me to go on.

My grandmother is 89 years old. 

I live in a home with three flights of stairs, and on average, my grandmother goes up and down those stairs at least three times a day. She has a bad ankle, and when we tell her to sit down and let it rest, she does so. However, five seconds later, she is up and making herself busy again.

A few years ago, my mother did a plank challenge to see how long she could hold a plank for, and my grandmother decided to join in. She held it for around two minutes. She was in her mid-eighties.

For a part of the year, when she and my grandfather are not living with my family, they are living in their condo in Florida, where she plays in golf tournaments and wins first place almost every time she plays. 

My family has moved a grand total of seven times. She was there for all of them, helped us unpack hundreds of boxes, with no negativity in view.

You see, all of this leads to one thing. My grandmother is the most powerful person that I have ever met. Not only can she do things that physically people at her age cannot do, but, she also mentally is never negative. I have never seen her without a big smile on her face.

With everything that she has gone through, she never let it slow her down. She never stopped being a powerful woman, even when, at times, her body tried to break her down.

My grandmother has a drive about her that is inspiring, and that I look up to every day.

If anyone were to meet her, they would never know that she is almost ninety because of her enthusiastic attitude. Because of all of this, yes, my grandmother is most certainly a hero.

No, she does not wear a visible cape, but to me, she does, and it soars a light pink luminosity everywhere she goes.

My grandmother is a hero; she is my hero.