The name given by the father, the baggage the child carries.

My parents gave me my name even before I was born. It was a sacred first gift my father silently bestowed upon his little son. A name not just for calling, but for remembering, for cherishing, and for growing up with their quiet hopes and expectations.

My father was the eldest son in a family that had lived for three generations in the outskirts of Hanoi . My paternal grandfather was well-known in the village for his knowledge and kindness, so from a young age, my father was taught to live properly and set a good example for his younger siblings. In my father's mind, "eldest son" was not just a title but a responsibility, to uphold the family tradition and bring honor to the ancestors. When my mother gave birth to me, my father was extremely proud. He went around boasting to everyone in the village and named me Viet Ha. According to my father's explanation, "Viet" refers to Vietnam, the descendants of Lac and Hong. "Ha" refers to Hanoi – where my father was born, where my paternal grandfather settled down, and where countless memories of a lifetime are preserved. My father once said: "I named you Viet Ha because I want you to always remember that you are a Hanoian, a Vietnamese. No matter where you go or what you do in the future, just mentioning that name will remind you who you are and where you come from."

When I was little, I never bothered to think about the meaning of my name, "Viet Ha." To me back then, the name was simply something the teacher used during roll call, something my friends wrote down in the attendance book when it was our turn to be on duty; nothing special. Sometimes I even felt embarrassed and awkward when the teacher mistakenly called me by the name of another girl in the class. Each time that happened, the whole class would giggle, and I would just lower my head, feeling both ashamed and angry, but not knowing who to be angry at...

However, as time passed and I grew older, beginning to face the challenges of life, I suddenly realized that my name held many things I couldn't understand when I was a child. I remember in 9th grade, during a literature class, the teacher assigned a short essay: "What do you think of your name?" The whole class was buzzing; some giggled, others sighed, "My name is so ordinary, what should I write about it?" But I sat silently. For the first time in my life, I thought about my name. I started writing, as if the emotions inside me had been waiting to pour out for a long time. I wrote about the meaning of my name, as my father had said, about how every time I heard him call me by my full name, I felt something so familiar and warm, like a reminder of my roots. I submitted my essay in silence, without much expectation. A few days later, the teacher returned the papers and praised some of my essays, saying they were very heartfelt and sincere. Then, unexpectedly, she read my essay aloud to the class. I sat silently, my heart racing, feeling both embarrassed and strange hearing someone else read my deepest thoughts. When she finished, a friend turned to me and whispered, "I didn't realize your name was so meaningful." That remark made me incredibly proud. For the first time, I truly understood the value of my name.

From then on, I began to see that name as having a very unique beauty. I practiced signing my name with quiet pride. Every time I wrote my full name on documents or files, I carefully formed each letter, as if I were re-engraved a part of my roots and family ties onto the page, just as my father had done.

When I went to university, I started living away from home. Living in a crowded and noisy city, I often felt lost amidst so many unfamiliar faces. Occasionally, when I missed home, I would call my father. Although he was still serious and spoke little, just hearing me say, "Dad, it's me, Viet Ha!", I knew he was smiling on the other end of the line. A quiet smile, but one full of pride.

Now that I am a father, I understand more than ever the sacred meaning of naming a child. I have chosen a simple name for my child, one that encapsulates the love I want to convey, just as my father did for me. And if one day, my child sits on my lap and asks, "Dad, why do I have this name?" or "What does my name mean, Dad?" , I will smile and tell them with all the affection and pride that the name was born from love, faith, and all the best things that parents want to give their child. I believe that someday, my child will understand, as I once understood, that a name is not just a sound to call, but a mark of their origins, of silent love, and a companion that will stay with them throughout their life.

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.
Please send your touching stories about fathers to BPTV by writing articles, personal reflections, poems, essays, video clips, songs (with audio recordings), etc., via email to chaonheyeuthuongbptv@gmail.com, Editorial Secretariat, Binh Phuoc Radio and Television and Newspaper Station, 228 Tran Hung Dao Street, Tan Phu Ward, Dong Xoai City, Binh Phuoc Province, phone number: 0271.3870403. The deadline for submissions is August 30, 2025.
High-quality articles will be published and shared widely, with payment for their contributions, and prizes will be awarded upon completion of the project, including one grand prize and ten outstanding prizes.
Let's continue writing the story of fathers with "Hello, My Love" Season 4, so that stories about fathers can spread and touch everyone's hearts!

Comment (0)