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A sky full of longing

A sudden downpour eased the stifling heat of the Northwest summer days. The earthy smell of the soil filled my nostrils. As soon as the rain stopped, I hurried to the garden to gather some wild greens to make a simple evening soup – a dish my father loved when he was alive. The faint rays of the late afternoon sun lingered, caressing my shoulders. The shimmering sunlight filtered through the leaves, bringing life to my grandmother's garden. Looking at the garden, I seemed to hear the familiar voice and laughter of my father echoing somewhere. Suddenly, a whole sky of distant memories flooded back into my mind…

Báo Đồng NaiBáo Đồng Nai21/07/2025

My father passed away more than two months ago. His sudden death one early morning in mid-May left a void in my mother's heart and in ours, a longing that cannot be put into words…

My father is considered the pillar of our family, a great source of emotional support for my mother and us. For the past few years, my mother has suffered a stroke, so all her daily activities depend on her involuntary companion, the wheelchair. However, she is never alone, because my father is always by her side – a quiet and devoted companion. Even though he is seventy-five years old and suffers from many illnesses, especially a weak heart that often makes him tired and short of breath, he never allows himself to rely on any of his children to care for my mother.

On weekends, we take the children home to visit their grandparents. We watch Dad take care of Mom, worrying about every meal, pushing Mom's wheelchair to see the streets, or even taking Mom to the hair salon to relax. Dad does everything skillfully, like a dedicated nurse in a hospital – gentle, quiet, and full of love.

Understanding my mother's sacrifices, even though my children wanted to bring them to the city where living conditions were better and so that my siblings and I could be closer to them, my father steadfastly refused during his retirement years. Having been his daughter-in-law for 10 years now, I've come to understand his character. He's a man of few words, calm and composed, with a deep love for nature and plants. He dislikes cramped living, and even less so the hustle and bustle of modern life. Therefore, he and my mother still live in their small, one-story house facing a gently flowing stream, with a spacious garden where he tends to the plants, and in season, he says, "There will be fresh vegetables and fruits for my grandchildren." Whenever he slowly expresses his simple yet profound advice, I feel the immense love he cherishes and preserves to compensate for my mother's sacrifices and to provide for his children and grandchildren.

My father wasn't the "million-view dad" that the images circulating on social media and the media praise. But for my siblings and me, he will always be the "national father"—a symbol of sacrifice, responsibility, and quiet love.

My husband once told me that when he was a child, his father worked in a remote area, sometimes only visiting home every two or three months. But every time he came home, he helped my mother with everything: chopping firewood, carrying water to fill the jars for her to use, and teaching us our lessons. Although he was a soldier and his professional habits were deeply ingrained in his way of thinking, he didn't impose his thoughts on his children. He played the role of a guide, a mentor, and offered advice like a friend, allowing his children to freely express their thoughts and desires. He wanted to be a companion on their journey to adulthood. Perhaps it was because of his closeness and willingness to listen that all four of my husband's siblings easily confided in him and regarded him as a great friend and teacher with a wealth of knowledge and life experience. Sometimes my mother-in-law would even pretend to be annoyed with the five of them when she found out she was the last to know their secrets, because my father had already heard them talk about school before...

I really love the line by poet Tran Dang Khoa when he wrote about his mother: "Mother is a whole sky of longing." But now, I want to borrow that emotional line to send to my father. Because for my siblings and me, "father is also a whole sky of longing." The house feels empty without his presence, warmth, and laughter. Losing our father is like losing the whole sky. A sky of love, a warm sky, and a sky of peace that we wanted to rely on...

Father! Even though you are no longer with us, no longer with Mother, you will always be the quiet man, the steadfast source of emotional support in my heart.

Pham Thi Thu Nga

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202507/mot-troi-thuong-nho-0f407c4/


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