From comic books, TV shows, and movies, superheroes are idolized among children of all ages. They’re often depicted as the stars of the show, saving the day when all odds are against them. If anyone has taught me what it means to persevere when everything feels impossible, it’s my sister, Lily.
Superheroes are known for their powers—Mr. Incredible’s super strength, The Flash’s super speed, or Spider-Man’s web-shooting hands—but none of those abilities could ever compare to my sister’s bravery or her strength, making her such a big role model in my life.
For as long as I can remember, Lily and I have been inseparable. From Barbie playdates to COVID-19 bike rides to late-night drives across town to our favorite pho place, we’ve bonded over both the smallest moments and the core memories throughout my 16 years. I grew up admiring her confidence, the way she could light up any room or ace any test placed in front of her. Although I sometimes felt envious of how naturally things seemed to come to her, I never resented her. Instead, it motivated me to become a better version of myself.
Throughout our childhood, we faced challenges that forced us to grow up quickly. Every family has its struggles, but Lily and I experienced our parents’ divorce at a young age and navigated the difficulties of substance abuse within our family. These obstacles only brought us closer. We developed a mutual understanding that our experiences were uniquely ours; something only we could fully comprehend. We knew that they would shape not only our upbringing, but the rest of our lives.
In April 2025, what seemed like an ordinary night at our dad’s house quickly changed the trajectory of our lives. In the middle of the night, I had to call 911 to take him to the hospital. He passed away in May, three days after Lily’s 18th birthday. Despite balancing college preparations, senior activities, graduation, and prom, Lily showed up at the hospital every day to spend time with our dad, and to be there for me and our family.
After my dad’s death, I felt defeated. I spiraled, losing connection with close friends and any sense of academic or athletic motivation. But even in that darkness, there was a bright light guiding me: Lily. She was crowned Prom Queen alongside her boyfriend of four years, Isaiah, who was crowned Prom King. She graduated from Del Mar High School as a successful student and a two-year captain of the varsity field hockey team. She traveled all summer before coming home and preparing to begin the next chapter of her life: College. Now a freshman at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, she is majoring in economics with a focus in finance and recently completed her first quarter with a 4.0 GPA.
Every day, I miss having my sister at home. The way she pushes me to take initiative and refuse to let my trauma define me is irreplaceable. Yet every text we send, TikTok we share, and brief FaceTime calls remind me that we are bonded for life. She is my built-in best friend. Lily may not wear a cape or possess superhuman powers, but she is my superhero in the most meaningful way. One day, I hope to reach my full potential and become even a fraction of the woman she already is.