When I was little, I would eagerly await my mother's return to tell stories, while my father would just pass by me like a silent breeze. He usually came home after my mother, spoke little during meals, and then would bury himself in his piles of papers or his old tools. In my naive mind back then, my father was just someone who lived in the same house, not truly in my heart.
Much later, when I had left the embrace of my family and begun an independent life filled with worries, I pieced together these memories. On those bitterly cold winter mornings, I always found my shoes dry and warm. At the time, I thought it was natural. Now I understand: It was my father, who woke up earlier than the rooster to dry my shoes so his daughter wouldn't get cold feet on her way to school. The bicycle I rode, the new pen at the beginning of the school year, the packets of cookies secretly placed in my schoolbag – all were expressions of my father's love, silent, discreet, yet thoughtful and heartfelt.
My father was a man of few words, and he didn't know how to say flowery things. But I saw love in his eyes as he waited for me outside the gate; in the sweat that soaked his shirt as he cycled to pick me up under the scorching sun; in the way he silently watched me leave the village and return to the city each time...
That man never truly took a day off for himself. While others spent holidays on fun, entertainment, and relaxation, my father would use the time to fix a broken door, prune the garden, or cook his daughter's favorite dish when he knew I was coming home for a visit… For him, happiness was seeing his children healthy, doing well in school, and living the right way.
I usually find it easy to express my love to my mother, but it's always been the hardest thing to say to my father. Yet, he never demanded anything, never complained. It was this "lack of demands" that led me to mistakenly believe he didn't need anything. But now I know that he's just a normal person with a heart that can feel. He also needs to be loved and cared for, even if it's just a simple question or a simple inquiry.
Someone once said, "Love for one's father, if left unspoken, is like an undelivered letter—forever lost." I used to think there would always be time. That if I was busy today, I'd call him tomorrow. If I was in a hurry this week, I'd visit next month. But one time, upon returning home, I saw my father sitting exhausted on the steps after carrying a potted plant, his hair almost completely white. I was horrified to realize, could I be sure he would still be there waiting for me? Or would there come a day when all I could do was express my love before his portrait, and all the "what ifs" would become a lifelong regret?
I didn't want my affection for my father to be delayed. I called him more often. I didn't say anything grand, just asked, "How are you, Dad?", and he replied, his eyes welling up with tears...
I made an effort to go home more often, enjoying family meals slowly, and listening intently to my father recount stories from the past that I once considered boring. Each time, I felt like I was returning a part of the love he had given me throughout his life. It turns out life is never easy. There was a time when I always felt it was easy, because my father was bearing the burden of those difficulties for me.
And so should you.
Don't love your father only through memories.
Show your love through actions - right now.
Because no one in the world can replace a father.
Hello, dear viewers! Season 4, themed "Father," officially launches on December 27, 2024, across four media platforms and digital infrastructures of Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and beautiful fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/173836/nguoi-dung-sau-de-con-vuon-xa
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