Thank you for this forum and this opportunity to share my father's story.
He was born in India in the 1940s - 8 sisters, 4 brothers. Worked on a farm to help his family like all his siblings. His home was maybe 2k sq ft, probably less, and I'm thankful I've been able to see it and stay in it multiple times. I'm also thankful my American wife has been able to see it. The house unto itself vs who I am today is an incredible story.
In what we'd call 5th grade, my grandfather gave all his kids the same choice - stop school and continue to help on the farm or leave the town, move 90m away, live in a dorm, and continue your studies on your own. There was no 6th+ grade education options other than that. My dad, thankfully, choose school. So he left his house to be his own man as an 11 yr old.
He came to the US in the 60s, got his masters in electrical engineering from UConn and started his PhD at GW but got "bored". Brought my mom over around this time and started his life as an IBM'er which ultimately brought him to Austin where my parents had me.
He taught me how to work, how to embrace failure as motivation and merely a step on the journey. He taught me humility (I showboated at a baseball game once and I've never seen my dad more disappointed in me) and the importance of kindness to your fellow human. Unless they suck at math, because that was, and I learned this many times, utterly unacceptable.
Two and a half years ago, I watched him have a stroke right in front of me. Watched his entire right half shut down. Then his entire self shut down. Thankfully, we were already in the hospital and the brilliant doctors saved his life. But his entire self was completely reset. Couldn't talk. Couldn't swallow. Couldn't walk.
After that, he fought. Hard. He gained full physical function faster than anyone anticipated. He learned to talk from scratch. He never settled and kept fighting to get back to where he was before. I know that will never happen and I know he'll never stop trying anyways.
That fight, that never giving into to failure - that's my dad and that's who I hope I will be.