In this photo, my mom had just turned 18 and was finishing high school at a prestigious classical lyceum. She was one of only two girls in a class of eight, studying alongside the children of doctors and lawyers. Unlike them, my mom came from humble beginnings—her father was an electrician and her mother was a homemaker. Every day, she woke up at 5 a.m. to catch the bus with laborers, determined to get an education her family could barely afford.

During her final year, my grandfather encouraged her to take a “safe” job as a secretary, a respectable path that would bring stability. But one quiet evening, something extraordinary happened. My grandfather, Lidio, pulled her aside and said, “This money was for your dowry. Use it for university instead. You can buy sheets later.” Despite having no diploma himself and facing many hardships, he believed in a future where daughters mattered just as much as sons.

It was 1960, a time when many people still believed that only boys could carry on a family’s legacy. When others said, “Too bad you didn’t have a boy,” my grandfather would smile proudly and say, “My girls are the best thing that ever happened to me.” His belief and courage changed my mom’s life forever. She studied hard, balancing her own education with tutoring others, and graduated in five years.

Thanks to my grandfather’s quiet strength and vision, my mom became a teacher. Today, she writes books and edits theses, inspiring others through education. My grandfather wasn’t just a dad—he was a quiet superhero who chose knowledge and equality over tradition, proving how one brave decision can change generations.