I walk in honor of my father, my hero, and truly my best friend.

Heart disease entered our lives when I was just 13 years old. One moment we were a typical father and son, and the next we were thrown into a world of hospital rooms, rehab facilities, and medical emergencies that would become all too familiar. Over the years, my dad survived four heart attacks, two strokes, open‑heart surgery, and even multiple cardiac arrests. Each time, he fought his way back with a strength that still amazes me to this day.

My teenage years weren’t spent at parties or on vacations, they were spent sitting beside his hospital bed, learning how to read monitors, asking doctors questions, and holding his hand through the hardest moments of his life. And if I could go back, I wouldn’t change a single minute.

When I was 19, after everything he had battled and survived, his heart finally grew too tired. On that day, I didn’t just lose my father, I lost my best friend, the person who shaped me, supported me, and showed me how to be strong in the face of impossible things.

It has been almost 13 years without him now, but not a day goes by that I don’t feel the impact of his love or the weight of his absence. I walk for him. I walk for every family who has sat in a hospital room praying for more time. I walk because heart disease steals too much from too many.

I walk because he can’t, and because he deserves to be remembered with every step I take.