My father never seemed
to express his love. The happiness in the family was mostly contributed
to by my mother. Every day, dad worked from morning until late at night.
However, when he heard about all the mistakes that we made during the day,
then he would lecture us nonstop.
One time, I stole a
piece of candy from the candy store near my house. My dad knew that, and he
insisted that I have to return the candy. Not only did he have me return the
candy, he forced me to clean up that store to redeem my mistake. At that
time, only my mom knew that I was just still a child.
I played soccer and
broke my leg. On the way to the hospital, the person who was holding me was
my mother. My dad stopped his car in front of the emergency door , but the
security guard asked my dad to move his car to somewhere else because the
parking space was just for the emergency truck. My dad was so upset. “What do
you think about our car? Was it a traveler's car?”
On each of my birthdays,
my father never looked like a father with me on those days. He just focused
on blowing up all the balloons, preparing the tables and chairs, or helping with
some other little things that needed to be done on those days. Mother was
always the person who placed the candles on the cake and brought it to me to
blow the candles out.
Looking through our
albums, our friends always asked, “Where is your dad?” Well, only God knew
because dad was always the photographer. Mother and I are the ones with smiles
on our faces, and we had many photos.
I remember one time
when my mother asked my father to teach me how to ride a bicycle. I begged
him not to let go of the bicycle with his hands, but he was so sure it was
time for him not to keep holding onto the bike. So when he let go of the
bicycle. I fell down, of course. My mother ran quickly toward me and helped
me to get up, and my father just waved off my mother, signaling her to stay
away. At that moment, I was so angry, and I wanted to show my dad that I did
not want any help. Anyway, I suddenly got up on my bike and rode away alone
to prove to my father that I got it. However, he stood there and smiled.
While I was at the University, my mother is the one who wrote all the letters to me. My
father only sent the money and one short letter in four years, and the
content was about when I left home and nobody played soccer on his lawn
anymore. As a result, his lawn was greener and healthier.
Every time I called
home, my father seemed to want to talk to me, but finally he always said, “I will
call mom for you!”
Finally, I got
married, and only my mother cried. My father just looked at me, fought back his tears, and then left
the room.
Since I was young until
the day I grew up, my father always said to me, “Where are you going? What time
will you be home? Does your car still have enough gas? Do not do that and do
not go..."
Father really did
not know how to show his love, or, perhaps, he did show a lot, but I was
unable to feel his big love for me.
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Source: Internet
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