Nostalgia is not unique to anyone!

On a late afternoon at the end of the year, as the cold winds crept through the streets, my heart ached with an unceasing longing for my parents. This longing seemed to grow heavier with each passing Lunar New Year.

This year, Tet (Lunar New Year) feels even sadder, as it marks 58 years since my father passed away, and over a year since my mother also left this world. In the days leading up to Tet, memories of my parents flood back like a waterfall, evoking a deep longing and an unending sense of emptiness.

Tet without a father: Half of the memories are lost forever.

I was born during the brutal years of war. My father passed away in 1967, when I was too young to fully understand the immense loss. My memory of him is of a tall, thin figure, a gentle smile, and calloused hands that always provided protection for my family. He left when the country needed him, leaving my mother to raise her children alone.

During those years, Tet in our small house was always without my father. Every time I heard the firecrackers on New Year's Eve, my heart ached as I saw my mother sitting silently by the altar, her eyes filled with tears. On some New Year's Eve nights, she stayed awake all night, as if silently conversing with my father through the swirling incense smoke. Each prayer she uttered was a memory, a wish sent to the deceased.

That memory, though decades have passed, remains deeply etched in my heart. Only as I grew older did I truly understand the loss my family suffered. My father was not only the pillar of the family but also the pride and emotional support for my mother and us.

Losing a mother: Spring is no longer complete.

Last year, my mother also left us to reunite with my father in a faraway place. The pain of losing my mother is like a knife cutting deep into my soul. If my father's death was a lingering pain that lasted throughout my childhood, then my mother's death is the pain that brought me to my knees in my twilight years.

This year, the house is still cleaned, the feast is still full, but without my mother's presence, Tet suddenly feels bland and soulless. I remember my mother's tireless efforts preparing sticky rice cakes and pickled onions from dawn till dusk; I remember her hands carefully wrapping each cake with complete love. My mother is the soul of warm and joyful Tet celebrations, the one who connects all generations in the family.

When my mother was alive, no matter how busy I was with work, I always tried to get home early. Seeing her sitting by the fireplace, telling old stories, filled me with an unusual sense of peace. Now that she's gone, the kitchen is cold and empty, and those stories have vanished with her.

The last afternoon of the year: A poignant remembrance of one's parents.

This afternoon, sitting before the altar, gazing at my parents' portraits, a profound sense of emptiness and sorrow welled up inside me. Silent tears fell, like unspoken words. Perhaps, while they were alive, I didn't cherish every moment with them enough. Now, no matter what I want to do to make up for it, it's impossible.

I remember every word of my father's teachings, every caring glance from my mother. I remember those impoverished but loving Lunar New Year days. Each cake, each cup of tea my mother served on the table represented a world of sacrifice and boundless love.

On this late afternoon of the year, watching the bustling crowds preparing for Tet (Lunar New Year), I secretly wished I could turn back time, to return to the days when my parents were still alive. Even with a simple meal and a Tet celebration lacking in material comforts, as long as my parents were by my side, everything felt warm and complete.

This Lunar New Year, without my parents, I understand even more how precious time is, yet how quickly it flows by. Parents are the source, the solid foundation of my spirit, the place my heart returns to whenever I feel lost. Losing my parents is like losing a part of my soul, a part of spring that will never return.

Although I know life is impermanent, my heart still longs for my parents every time Tet (Lunar New Year) comes around. I only hope that, far away, they have reunited and are still watching over and protecting me as they did in my childhood. And even though my parents are no longer with me this Tet, I will still live, love, and cherish the family values ​​they once nurtured.

Without my parents, Tet (Lunar New Year) feels incomplete. But in my memory, my parents will forever be the most beautiful spring, the guiding light for me in the remaining days of my life. As Tet arrives and spring returns, the scenery changes, but some memories remain unchanged. That is the memory of my parents – the source of love that time and distance can never erase.

Source: https://giadinhonline.vn/noi-nho-khong-cua-rieng-ai-d204339.html