Whenever Mr. Q accompanies me to visit the grave on the day of death, I always stand in silence in front of the tombstone, and Mr. Q always asks, "Don't you say something?" "I'm still silent. Like the man I sacrificed, a man who died of illness after 28 years of being with me, my father. Mr. Q saw that I was always speechless, so he took care of himself and began to help me pay tribute to him in the form of a chat.
I actually had a lot of words in my head when I missed him, but when I came to the end, I couldn't say anything. Just as he spoke to me very briefly every time he was still alive, and never showed his emotions, this may have formed the habit of silent expression between us.
<h1 class= "pgc-h-arrow-right" > love that never speaks</h1>
In that era when there was no online shopping, he would buy me delicious chocolates and all kinds of snacks that were not cheap in the only big mall in our small city. He laughed at me when I was naughty and hurt, spoke for me when my mother scolded me, and secretly stuffed me with pocket money. Although he never said he loved me, he would try to make me happy and silently love me in his own way.
When I was working in the field after graduating from college, one night in the middle of the night, I was woken up by the "buzzing" sound of the phone, and I looked at the electricity, it was my father. My heart clucked, thinking something was wrong. After connecting, he instead asked if there was a shortage of money and if there was anything wrong. Confused, I was confused. Inexplicably on this call. The next day later, my mother told me that it was the midnight phone call that my father saw a scam text message in the middle of the night, and my mother said that it must be a scam when she saw it, but he still couldn't rest assured, even in the middle of the night, he had to call to confirm that it was indeed okay before he put his mind at ease.
This man who was not good at words would never say nice words to make his daughter happy, but he used his few words to express his concern and concern. It is said that fatherly love is like a mountain, and my father is a silent mountain.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" > the moment I found him old</h1>
Zhu Ziqing described in his essay "Back Shadow" that the father who struggled to climb the platform to buy a few oranges for his son, at that moment, he found that his father was much older. And I found that he was old in addition to his gray hair because he was not good at words and never bothered about small things, and he became a strange old man who was prone to tantrums because of small things. It turned out that he had reached the time of menopause.
I grew up and he got old. Because of many small things, we began to rub each other, and sometimes no one paid attention to anyone. The most serious one was when I and I didn't have a boyfriend because I was anxious, and maybe I was poked in the heart outside, and when I came home, I yelled at me directly, "I don't know what you are going to do every day, then it's like being picked out of the market leftover rotten cabbage, no one wants it." "It really hurt, I slammed the door and hid in my room and cried." After two days, my father, who couldn't express himself, felt that his words were too heavy, but how could someone so tough as him pull down his face and apologize? So he did it by buying me good food like when I was a child.
When he bought me a snack that I liked to eat, and the look in his eyes told me to eat, I knew he apologized. So I also accepted his awkward apology sympathetically, and secretly sighed: What an arrogant and awkward person.
But I love him.
<h1 class="pgc-h-arrow-right" > the last days</h1>
Later, I was going to get married, but he fell ill, because the subarachnoid bleeding caused by high blood pressure made him lose weight, because of the effect of the effusion, he began to become confused, and his eyes lost their luster. Visible to the naked eye, he is getting haggard. He began to have limited mobility, sometimes gibberish, and lived in his own world. I needed to hold him hard when I took care of him, and the warm embrace of my childhood memory became empty and a little cool.
Every now and then my nose can't help but sour. How arrogant and face-loving he was the first person, and now he even needs help from others to act, and his inner sadness is no less than mine.
On the day of my wedding, my father woke up, as if he knew that I would start his own small family in the future, and there was reluctance in his eyes. When I was about to go out, he took my hand and Mr. Q's hand with his already skinny hand and said slowly and clearly, word by word, "Take good care of my daughter." "I cried, and everyone present couldn't help but start wiping his tears, and he also cried, because of the brain and nerve damage at that time, he couldn't have too many mood swings like ordinary people, but the tears in his eye sockets were shining."
Even in the midst of his illness, his heart was still worried about me, the father's love was silent, his love was not great, but for his daughter, this little bit of love was enough.
Since then he has been confused more often, and later even more bedridden, and his mother has taken care of him almost unslackly. Half a year later, he finally got rid of the torment of illness and went to another world. When he looked at him for the last time at the funeral, his original tall body lay quietly in the ice coffin, and only the skin and bones were left. Originally thinking that he was relieved, I couldn't help but feel sad, turned my back to my face and my eyes were red again.
Just like that, a man who expressed clumsiness but loved me from the heart was gone. He had no great achievements in his life, nor did he stand out, he was an ordinary and ordinary man and an unkind father, but he loved me, I know. I don't believe in ghosts and gods, but if there really is another world, I hope he is okay over there.
The raindrops outside the window replied, "I hope you're well, my big friend." ”
Written at the end: I probably don't have as much idolatry to my father, who is more like my big friend, not good at expressing, a little proud, and a little wayward. We ate snacks together and grew tooth decay together. Played games together and watched horror movies together. He accompanied me for the first half of my life, but finally left in pain. In the process of writing this commemorative article, I can't help but blush my eyes several times, and my love for him and his love for me is all in the unspoken.
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