My father was a soldier of Uncle Ho's army. He spent over 16 years in the army. When I was little, I didn't understand much about my father's "profession," I only knew that every time my mother heard the loudspeaker announcing the list of units marching through the area, she would pause, listen carefully to every word, and then sigh softly, knowing that my father's unit wouldn't be passing by our house.
Only when I grew up did I understand why, throughout my long childhood, my father was always absent from family meals, gatherings, and even when we were sick. He didn't go to extravagant places, nor did he seek anything for himself; he was constantly on the move with his comrades, fulfilling his duty to protect the homeland. During the years when the country was still at war, he and his comrades silently protected every inch of our land. Each step he took was part of a journey to bring peace to countless other families. My mother, on the other hand, stayed behind to teach, care for, and keep his image present in our hearts, even if only through bedtime stories. Because of this, even though we didn't see him often, we grew up with the image of a strong, quiet, yet loving father.
When he left the military, my father returned to his hometown with the demeanor of a soldier who had endured many hardships – quiet, pensive, but with eyes that remained bright and steadfast. He didn't talk much about what he had been through, but quietly began a new journey – the journey of being a husband, a father, and the pillar of the small house with its old garden.
Unlike my mother, who was always gentle and caring, my father was strict and spoke little. Warm hugs or loving words from him were almost a luxury for us. Instead, he taught us through actions – punctuality, self-discipline in cleaning up, and responsibility for our words and deeds. When I was little, I didn't understand, and sometimes I even felt hurt or angry at him for not smiling or doting on me like other fathers. Looking back now, I realize that my father's love wasn't loud or ostentatious, but quiet and enduring, just like the man himself!
Although he was a man of few words, living a simple and quiet life, my father harbored a vast love for his family. He didn't often express his feelings through words, nor did he ever say "I love you," but he always silently did everything for the family. There were days when my mother was sick, and he would quietly go into the kitchen to cook porridge, peel fruit, clumsily and awkwardly, but he wouldn't let my mother lift a finger. When my siblings and I got married and moved out, everyone was busy, and my father knew that, so he never called or texted for long periods. Once, he had a high fever for several days, but he still drove himself to buy medicine because he didn't want to bother anyone. He fixed the broken gate himself. When the electrical wires were chewed by rats, he used a chair to piece them together little by little. His back was hunched, his eyesight was failing, yet he still refused to ask his children or grandchildren for help.
Life just sweeps us along without us even realizing it. Work, meetings, children... so many things keep us busy that my siblings and I only occasionally remember to call and check on our parents, let alone visit them. Meanwhile, our house is less than 2 kilometers away, a motorbike ride of less than ten minutes. For some reason, that short distance sometimes feels strangely far. It's just a short turn away, but arranging a visit to see our parents is sometimes more difficult than preparing for a long trip.
Every time I called my dad, I always heard the same familiar phrase: "I'm just happy that you're all well, just focus on your own work." I heard it so often that I became accustomed to it, but the older I got, the more I realized that phrase wasn't so simple. It wasn't just sympathy; it was his way of hiding his longing to be close to his children and grandchildren. It was his way of showing love without saying it directly. He rarely asked for anything, but I knew he always longed for family meals, the laughter of his children and grandchildren, and someone to pour him a cup of tea. That alone was enough to make him happy.
Looking back, I often blame myself. If only those phone calls weren't always so rushed. If only I had come home more often, just to sit beside my father, listening to him tell me little stories like the tomato plant just blooming or the hen just laying an egg… then perhaps that distance would never have been so great. Because for my father, love doesn't need to be grand. Just the thought of his children coming home, sitting beside him, listening to him tell a few everyday stories is enough to warm his heart. heart.
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/19/171708/yeu-thuong-khong-loi
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