A long walk without shoes. A craggy dirt road.
An hour to school. An hour back home.
My name is Shawn Kumar. This is about Dad.

Today’s story is from Shawn Kumar.

Nand & Shawn Kumar…proud dad with proud son.

What kids now expect, he would never have dreamed. My father grew up in India. He was thankful just to have shoes. As hard as it was, Dad dreamed of the best, only good things. He did it back then. He does it today.

My father was determined to create an opportunity-filled life for the family he one day would have.

He committed himself to do what it took. He knew it would be. Dad studied and worked night into day. At 21, he earned a scholarship to travel from India to attend college in the U.S. By just 34, he had saved enough to start his own business.

He worked with intensity, vision, courage and heart. But life can be good…then suddenly bad.

It was June 1991. I was just seven. Dad’s business was flourishing. He had worked hard with a positive heart. His firm would eventually grow to almost 2000 employees – $230M million annually in revenue.

At the time, I was a Chicago Bulls fanatic, just like my dad. Celebrating our team’s first NBA Championship, we were shooting hoops in the driveway. He suddenly vanished into the house. A water break, I thought?

Minutes passed. He didn’t return. I wanted to play, so I ran in to bring him back outside.

A son’s worst nightmare lie on the floor. Dad stretched out, writhing in pain. I was scared beyond anything I can describe in mere words. I quickly called 911. Dad had suffered “the widow maker”, so dubbed because it is often fatal. Only 2% of victims survive. Those who do may live only a year.

In the hospital, he looked up silently, his eyes full of tears. Dad saw our fearful faces. He could barely speak, but later he told me, “Shawn, I could pray.”

“One more year,” he asked, “Let me have one more year to teach my children all that I’ve learned. They are too young. I will not leave them this way.”

Dad visualized his arteries rebuilding. He imagined purified blood rushing through his heart. He could picture the damaged tissue healing.

The first few weeks were scary and tough. We didn’t know if Dad would make it. He could barely shower or walk. But his belief in recovery never wavered; his mind drove the healing inside.

My dad is the most positive, committed man in the world. He does what it takes to make dreams come true.

Those long shoeless walks to never miss school. The scholarship he earned to come to the U.S. The business he built. The way he healed his heart.

I am a fortunate son. I now work with my dad. Each day is a gift.

I’m not the only one who appreciates the gift of this man. While many businesses laid people off during the post-2008 downturn, Dad never let go of a single employee. He just wouldn’t do it. He’d work late into the night…and didn’t quit until he found a way.

My father approaches every issue with a smile on his face, a pat on the back, believing in nothing but success and brighter times.

The right outlook. The grit to do what it takes. That is my dad.

That is the great lesson I will pass on to my son one day.