When I was little, I often waited for my mother to come home to tell me stories, while my father - just passed me by like a quiet breeze. He often came home after my mother, and when he ate, he rarely talked, then he was busy with a pile of papers or an old set of tools. In my immature thinking at that time, my father was just someone who lived in the same house, not really in my heart.
Much later, when I had left my family and started an independent life with many worries, I pieced together each piece of memory. On cold winter mornings, I always found my shoes dry and warm. At that time, I thought it was obvious. Now I understand: It was my father, who woke up earlier than the rooster crowed to dry my shoes, so that his daughter would not have cold feet when going to school. The bicycle I rode, the new pen at the beginning of the school year, the packages of cakes secretly placed in my school bag - all were my father's love, silent, discreet but caring and sincere.
My father was a man of few words and did not know how to say flowery words. But I saw love in his eyes as he stood outside the alley waiting for me to come home; in the sweat soaking his shirt as he cycled to pick me up under the scorching sun; in the way he silently watched me every time I left the countryside to return to the city...
That man has never had a day of proper rest for himself. Holidays for others are a time for fun, entertainment, and relaxation, but my father takes the opportunity to fix the broken door, prune the trees in the garden, or cook his daughter's favorite dish when he knows I'm coming home to visit... For my father, happiness is seeing his children healthy, studying well, and living the right life.
I often easily express my love to my mother, but to my father it becomes the most difficult thing to say. However, my father does not demand, does not blame. It is this "little demand" that makes me mistakenly think that he does not need. But now I know, my father is also a normal person with a heart that can vibrate. He also needs to be loved, to be cared for, even if it is just a simple question.
Someone once said: “Love for father, if not expressed, will be like an unclaimed letter - forever lost”. I used to think there would always be time. That today is busy, tomorrow I will call my father. This week is busy, next month I will visit home. But one time when I returned, I saw my father sitting exhausted on the steps after carrying a flower pot, his hair almost white, I panicked and realized that could I be sure that tomorrow my father would still be there to wait? Or would there come a day when I could only say loving words in front of his portrait and all the “what ifs” would become a lifelong torment?
I don’t want my feelings for my father to be too late. I call him more often. I don’t say anything big, just ask: “How are you, Dad?”, and he said, his nose was stinging…
I tried to come home more often, eat family meals slowly, and listen to my father tell old stories that I used to think were boring. Every time I did, I felt like I was returning a part of the love that my father had given me all his life. It turns out that life has never been easy. There was a time when I always felt it was easy, because my father was taking on the difficult part for me.
And so do you.
Don't just love your father with memories.
Love in action - now.
Because no one in the world can replace a father.
Hello love, season 4, theme "Father" officially launched from December 27, 2024 on four types of press and digital infrastructure of Radio - Television and Binh Phuoc Newspaper (BPTV), promising to bring to the public the wonderful values of sacred and noble fatherly love. |
Source: https://baobinhphuoc.com.vn/news/19/173836/nguoi-dung-sau-de-con-vuon-xa
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