A girl told me that she was looking for a knight in shining armor. She wanted a hero.

My memories drifted, as they often do, to a different time and place. I thought of a funeral.

The funeral was for a fellow named Moe. Moe was my father's fraternity brother and my big sister's godfather.

Tears welled up in my old man's eyes. As a young boy, I couldn't understand why my Dad shed a tear for this dead guy. I asked him why he cried.

He told me to sit down on his knee and listen to a story. The story was about the man named Moe.

Moe was a gawky man about six and a half feet tall. He wasn't too successful with the ladies either. Even though he was tall, pretty girls made him nervous. He was clueless about the mysteries of women.

Moe looked up to my dad even though he was taller than him. He admired my pops because my dad succeeded where Moe failed. In the classroom. In the bedroom. Everywhere that mattered.

Moe watched my father marry my mother with envy. It was an envy borne out of admiration rather than jealousy. He wished he had the same thing but was glad for his buddy. That was how Moe was. Hopeful for himself but happy for someone else.

Moe didn't think twice when my dad asked him to be the godfather to his first child. He was honored by the request and took it upon himself to help raise the little girl.

Years passed. Yet Moe met no one. Then one day he met a girl. She wasn't good looking, but she was kind hearted. Unfortunately, they never made it to the altar.

The doctors diagnosed Moe with Leukemia. Told him he didn't have much longer.

My father sat next to Moe as he lay on his deathbed. Moe said he needed a miracle, but wasn't gonna get one. Despite the weakened state of his frail body, he bought a teddy bear for his god child. He gave the gift to my father and asked one thing. That he give the present to my sister at his funeral.

The funeral came and my sister got her present. My father tearfully looked at the coffin and his little girl with the teddy bear.

When my dad finished telling me about Moe, I said the story was sad. He hugged me and told me that there were more heroes on hospital beds than anywhere else.

My memory of the funeral faded and once again the girl confronted me. She asked me where all the good men are. I said they were somewhere else.