A touching story of fatherly love.

Father's love is as deep as the sky, which makes me look up and pity and dare not scream; Father's love is like a river, slender and steady, which makes me afraid to set foot in it. Fatherly love is profound, great, pure and unrequited, but it is bitter, incomprehensible, melancholy and unattainable. The following is a touching fatherly love story I compiled for you. I hope it will help you!

A touching story of fatherly love: painful affection

Ten years of life and death are two boundless. In a blink of an eye, my father has left me for more than ten years. For more than ten years, whenever I think of my father, what remains in my memory is always his pain.

My father was born in 1930s, and he spent his childhood and adolescence in war. After settling down, I just gave birth to a litter of babies and suffered from turbulent and poor years.

My father is short with thin shoulders and a round waist. He works in the field and eats a lot, but earns less. After distributing the land, my father helped to farm the land, while weaving nets and fishing to earn some change to subsidize the family. From this time on, his bronchitis became more and more serious, and he breathed like a bellows. He works outside during the day, goes home at night, and darns fishing nets by the light of oil lamps. His stubby fingers pierced the needle, and soon the net hole broken by the fish was restored. My father slept very little. In order to go fishing further, he often goes out when the chicken crows, and then goes home wet with his fishing net at dusk. In my memory, my father always smells like fish.

In the late 1980s, almost all fish ponds were contracted, and there were few fish in the wild fish ponds in the suburbs, which worried my father. During the slack season, he sat alone under the jujube tree in front of the door. Our whole family is worried that he will get sick. Later, my father turned to learn how to grow watermelons. My father often works in the fields all day because he needs to explore the techniques of growing melons and the habits he developed when fishing. When you are hungry, eat some dry steamed buns that you carry with you; When you are thirsty, grab a handful of water from the ditch and drink it. This is another disease of his? Stomach trouble began to torment him. I clearly remember that one day at noon, I went to call my father for dinner and saw him lying sideways on the ridge of Gua Tian, with his hands over his stomach and his hoe beside him, surrounded by undulating green.

The disease that afflicts my father the most is hernia. In the first few years of illness, my father could bear it, and the pain soon passed. Later, the pain lasted longer and longer, and the pain became more and more intense. Father sat on a small bench, his upper body pressed forward, his hands pressed tightly against his lower abdomen, and a fine layer of sweat oozed from his head and face. However, none of us can share his pain.

The river of years has taken away too many past events, but these fragments about his father's pain have settled down forever, as if these pains constituted his life. It is the life of all farmers to work at sunrise and rest at sunset. These illnesses make him different.

My sick father never stopped working, and he never let me interfere with his work. Sometimes when I see my father is incompetent, I run to help. My father's face falls and asks, Have you finished your homework? Many times, I just turned around silently and glanced at my father's thin back, tears pouring down my face.

Father, what kind of heavy expectations are hidden in your heart?

In the spring of the year when I was about to graduate, the firecrackers of the New Year were not far away, and my father's liver ascites was serious. It seems cold when he lies down. Before getting up, he asked his family to make a brazier, and then he got up and sat by the brazier, awake for a while. I advised him: Dad, do more exercise when you are free! ? Father whispered:? I was half buried, and my mother sitting next to me looked at me silently. The torch in the basin burned my face red, and I bowed my head in panic, feeling freezing cold in my heart.

Half a month later, my father, like a squeezed melon vine, left lightly when the wind blew.

? The tree wants to keep quiet, but the wind will not stop; My son wants to serve his parents when they are old, but they are gone. ? Father worked hard all his life and could not rest because of illness. As a child, he can't understand, let alone repay. Every time I recall these things, I feel sad except for regret!

According to the elders, all the pain disappeared at the moment when people stopped breathing. So, for my father, isn't death a relief? It is also said that the more people suffer in the world, the happier they are in heaven. So, is father enjoying happiness in heaven now?

The grass is growing and the sky is speechless. Father, may you rest in peace!

Touching story about father's love: the father of migrant workers? Happiness?

When I first moved into my new house, someone knocked at the door outside. Looking out from the cat's eye: a stranger. His hair was unkempt, his face was covered with dust and sweat, and his eyes were anxious and vacant. I carefully opened the door a crack and asked. Who are you looking for? I saw the man's face suddenly turn red. He took out a pack of crumpled cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to him, saying in an almost begging tone. Comrade, I am a migrant worker, working in this community where you live. I want to ask you a favor. I wonder if you can agree?

? What is this? What did you say?/Sorry? I pushed away the cigarette he handed me and looked at him suspiciously.

Seeing that my attitude eased, his face became redder when he was excited, and he was anxious to speak? Well, my son will have a winter vacation soon, and he will come to see me from his hometown in the city. The child said that he wanted to see with his own eyes the beautiful house built by his father in the city. I thought, after the child comes, can I take him to your house to have a look? Many houses have been built, but I never know how city people live in them, so it is difficult for me to explain it to the children. ? The migrant worker finished his sentence in one breath and then looked at me expectantly.

I suddenly realized. It turns out. Does this migrant worker's father want rural children to witness themselves in the city? Masterpiece? What a cautious father! I nodded in agreement.

When he saw that I readily agreed, he said excitedly: thank you, thank you, you are really a great man! I asked several families. As soon as they heard that I was going to take my children to see their home, some closed the door without saying anything, some said that I was mentally ill, and some followed me and thought I was a bad person. Keep watching me walk into the migrant workers' shed? Today, I met a great person! ? His face is full of joy and his eyes are full of happiness.

A few days later, he came to my house with a little boy. The boy is thirteen or fourteen years old, with dark skin, strong body and bright eyes. Seeing me, the little boy looked timid.

Father and son put on the shoe covers I handed them and walked carefully. Maybe it's the first time I set foot on the wooden floor, and my steps are particularly soft. I saw a big hand and a small hand tightly held together, and there was a wriggling formality in my eyes. The father seemed to be trying to show his sophistication and maturity when he bent down and said to his son, My uncle's house was built by my father's construction company. When this building was built, I was responsible for building walls. Don't underestimate the work of building a wall. You must be careful, be careful, be careful again, there can be no deviation. Look at that. There used to be a hole in this wall. In order to transport bricks and cement conveniently, the hole was blocked after the house was built. Oh, by the way, I also passed the intermediate level exam. Now, I am also a construction worker with a diploma. ?

He tried his best to describe the details of his struggle in the city to his children and let his son feel that he was working in the city. Hearing this, the son kept looking at his father with pride and pride in his eyes. At the same time, he shook his father's hand with the other hand, and his father's back straightened up a lot in an instant.

After a while, my father and son finished reading my new house and almost moved to the door step by step to meet my farewell. Suddenly, the father of migrant workers held my hand tightly and said excitedly: Today is the happiest day since I went to work in the city. I can enter the city and feel the warmth of my family in the city. This happiness will never be forgotten. ? I saw the eyes of the father of migrant workers shining.

Unexpectedly, it seems to me to be a simple and ordinary thing. Let the father and son go into my new house and have a look, which makes the father of migrant workers excited. Suddenly, I feel that the distance between my father and migrant workers is much closer. There is a kind of warmth around.

The father and son helped him down the stairs, only to hear the child say to his father, Dad, you are really amazing. It's really comfortable for city people to live in such a nice house. If only we could live in such a nice house you built in the city. ? There is envy and yearning in the son's tone. The father lovingly touched the child's head and said? Silly boy, how is that possible? Forget it. I think all you have to do is finish your writing at home and help your grandparents do more work.

The child raised his childish face, knocked on the floor and said quietly? How is it impossible? I will study hard and have a bright future. I must let you and your mother live in the house you built in the city and live the same life as the city people. ?

Touching Fatherly Love Story Part III: The Last Farewell

There are many unbearable farewells in our life.

My father is a bitter child. His parents died when he was a child, and 13 went to Shanghai alone. Later, I entered the factory, swept away my blindness and lived a new life. Slowly, he rose from steel worker to technician. My mother is a primary school teacher and there are two boys at home. She is not rich, but at least she has enough food and clothes.

My father is a contented person, but my mother is a very challenging woman. At that time, my mother quit her job and went to a private enterprise factory in other places to run supply and marketing. It's hard. She only comes back once a week. She learned to drink and smoke in order to socialize.

I inherited my mother's genes, ran around with others in my spare time, and earned some pocket money to supplement my family. That day, I got a message that a performance team needed an handyman to load and unload the stage, and at the same time, they could dance at the beginning. I am very excited. I told my father that I would leave tomorrow morning.

Father said, did you ask for leave from school? I said, please help me. Father said, your mother will come back at noon tomorrow. Please wait for her. I said, the train can't wait You can take me to the station by bike tomorrow morning.

At that time, we lived in Minhang, which was far less prosperous than now. It was a village in the city, and we had to take a long-distance bus to Shanghai. Father took him there? 28? My bike, I sit behind him with my bag on my back. At 6 o'clock in the summer morning, there are already people selling breakfast and morning exercises on the roadside.

There is still one kilometer to the station, and the tire is flat. I jumped out of the back seat and ran to the station, complaining as I ran. Father pushed the car behind me, so we arrived at the long-distance bus station. It was a 20-minute train, and just one arrived at the station. I quickly jumped on the bus and the door closed behind me. I saw what my father said on the platform, but I couldn't hear anything.

I lowered my head to get money to buy a ticket, and this bow? It's a lifetime

The next afternoon, my father died of cerebral hemorrhage. When he left, he was very peaceful, and his face was as golden as paper, without leaving a word. I hung out with the caravan. On the fourth day, my friends in Shanghai found me in a coal mine below Xuzhou. Back to Shanghai, it happened to be the seventh day, catching up with my father's memorial service.

After that, I couldn't close my eyes for a long time. Every time I close my eyes, the picture of the station appears in front of me: a big boy rushes into the car, lowers his head and looks for money without even waving his hand. And at the station, a middle-aged man, pushing a car, wanted to say something, but I couldn't hear, couldn't hear?

Is there the best farewell in life? Actually, no, no matter what kind of farewell is accompanied by pain. Farewell to injuries, we have to go through a lot of pain; Farewell to the dead relatives is a heartbreaking pain.

However, we can't avoid these, we can only say to ourselves: once, these people who loved us very much, they accompanied us for a long time; They are going to another city, where we have more relatives, and they are reunited there.

One day, we will also go to that city, thinking that there are so many relatives we know and love in that city.

We will not be afraid.

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