The person I admire the most is no longer alive. Even if I know him only from stories and pictures, he has a place in my heart. The person I'm talking about is my great-grandfather who died at the age of 93, in 1997.
He was an extraordinary person with a strong and beautiful character, he was tall and had black hair and eyes. Everyone in the family talks about him, especially my father who had a strong connection with him. Being born in 1904, he participated in both World Wars. My father told me about the terrible experiences he had during the wars. In those stories, the war showed its grotesque and animal face. My great-grandfather had gone through another difficult time when his son, my grandfather's brother, joined the army when he had just 18 years and never returned home. My grandmother told me how empathetic and kind he was after the wars and that shows what strong character he had. Even if he had money, he was very modest. He never threw out his food and he often asked my dad to pick up cherries in order to eat them with bread. He loved animals so, both house and backyard were full of cats, dogs and chickens. He also had a white horse named Snow which he loved the most.
I think that his life was very special with more tough moments which made him the person he was-a hero.