My childhood hero was my maternal grandfather. His name was Peter. Oddly enough, he was given that name after his brother born before him died who was also named Peter. Being named after a deceased child always left him feeling the name was cursed.
Grandpa developed a rare disease when he was young causing him to have both his legs amputated above the knees at the age of 18. Making a living was a struggle for him, but he eventually put together enough money to open a restaurant, which did quite well for many years until I-65 came through and they needed the land it was on for a cloverleaf. My grandparents lived above the restaurant, so it was a double hit. They bought a small home after that and he opened a used car lot. Because he was not a great business man, he often got taken in transactions.
But the reason he was (and still is my hero), is the man would give you the shirt off his back and his last penny if you were in need. Always. He was kind, gentle, and always an optimist. Never a bad word about another. He helped so many people in his lifetime and never did it publicly. You needed something, you went to Pete. He never asked anyone to pay back, but many did over the years. He suffered with pain daily, yet never let it show. Prosthetics were positively awful back then, and he actually did have wooden prosthetics that often left his stumps bleeding.
Because of his ongoing disease, he died early in life two days before I graduated from High School. I still miss him to this day, but as an adult, he has grown in my eyes to be an ever bigger hero. I now have a deeper understanding of what he overcame and an even deeper admiration for who he chose to be despite his circumstances.