Who recommends some articles and songs about Father's Day? Songs should be in English.

The annual Father's Day is one of the most important festivals for me, a foreign prodigal son.

Carefully selected greeting cards, a small check, a tacit overseas phone call, listening to my mother's kind voice, repeating the same words. In the mother's heart, her son will always be her darling; The son also knows that his mother will always be his closest relative in this world.

Father's Day gift advertisements are being broadcast on TV, and people are beginning to post articles commemorating their fathers online. An idea flashed through my mind that my father died when he was as old as me! This casual' discovery' made something in my heart surge uneasily, and I couldn't calm my slightly excited mood. I know it's time for me to sit down and sort out the' father' complex for more than 30 years, although I don't know where it will take me. . .

My father died at the beginning of that unprecedented era when I was still in primary school. It was a late autumn evening, and as usual, I was covered in mud and sweaty, and I slipped home exhausted. Far away, I saw groups of people running towards my home. Someone ran over, saw me, wanted to say something with surprised and frightened eyes, and opened his mouth and ran back. I unconsciously

The stream rolled and ran home. As we approached, I was horrified to hear my mother crying in the crowd, mixed with the loud cries of my sister, brother and sister. I threw away my schoolbag and toys and squeezed into the house in the crowd. In the living room, my mother was stopped by some strangers.

Holding and pulling, my sister, brother and sister desperately pulled my mother. My mother grabbed me from the crowd and rushed out desperately. I burst into tears with nameless fear that the sky was falling on me. In this way, we are surrounded by people on high, surging, as if to be submerged. In the confusion, I suddenly heard the shouts of my eldest brother outside the crowd. My mother looked up in a daze and shouted his name, go to the hospital to see your father! Big brother was rushing in, and someone heard a fucking cry and said, stop him! Eldest brother has squeezed into the crowd, heard the shouts of his mother and the crowd, stopped coming at us, turned around, pushed away the crowd coming towards him with a loud roar, and rushed out, still chasing the people who tried to hold him. Mom couldn't support it any longer and sat down on the ground.

I don't remember how the crowd dispersed. Mother sat on the kang with us in her arms, and eldest brother stood by the kang. The suffocating darkness enveloped us, as if someone were walking around the house. All I know is that dad left, and a premonition of disaster seized us. Mother sat up straight and put her arms around my sister, brother and sister, as if afraid that we would be swallowed up by darkness as soon as we let go. We were so tired that we fell asleep on our mother. Wake up in the morning and snuggle up next to my mother. Our family is already crowded with people. All the people were desperately crowded into the window to look in. I see my classmates, neighbors and more people I don't know. A sea of people, gathering more and more. We were surrounded like this, and my mother kept repeating to us: Son, your father is a good man, you should trust everyone. Several people squeezed out of the crowd, and knock knock stood on the ground and announced to us that my father was a capitalist roader, a counter-revolutionary, damn it. The revolutionary masses will hold a public trial. As black children, we must obey orders and fight together. Mom didn't refute. Just after they left, they warned us that you should do whatever they told you to do, and never resist, just remember that your father is a good man. I think my mother is afraid that we will suffer from childhood, but she can't protect us. In the afternoon, the parade marched around our house from far and near, carrying his father's coffin, posting critical posters, shouting slogans crazily, and then holding a critical meeting in the square of the municipal government. I don't know why the rebels didn't come to help us fight. Far away, the mouth in the horn

With the sound of the trumpet, our whole family gathered around our mother and tried our best to support the family who lost their father.

I lost my father like this, and I didn't even have time to remember what it was like to see my father at last. Mother said from time to time that she didn't know where they had left her father. Until one dark night, someone knocked at the door. That kind of gentle, but thrilling knock on the door. These days, we don't see' normal people'. I don't know what it will be. There was a pause at the knock on the door, and then it sounded tenacious. Mother motioned for Big Brother to open the door and told me to follow him. Do not go out. In the dark, there stood a tight man in a black coat and a big mask. Say to the eldest brother, I have the whereabouts of your father, please come out. Eldest brother said, you can come in and talk. He hesitated, walked into the corridor, stood in the shadow of the light, and said to his mother, I am a friend. I'm telling you, if you want to find bones in the future, go find this friend. He said his friend's name and left silently. It turned out to be an old subordinate of my father before his death. He followed the parade after the criticism meeting and waited for another criticism meeting in the cemetery in the outer suburbs. A blue brick was secretly placed where his father was buried. Send someone else to tell us the news. In the red terror of the city shrouded by dark clouds, this friend's righteous act left an indelible mark on my young mind. You know, he was the only friend who walked into our house for a long time after that disastrous day. Kind people dare not come to see us, so they let the children and our friends come to the door to play and secretly tell my father that he is a good man. For many years, I can't forget what adults relayed from their children.

I haven't seen my father for eight years. It was the same friend who told us personally that the burial of my father's cemetery should level the land and build an agricultural school. He has arranged for us to take out the body. Mother decided to be cremated. It was another clear autumn, and my eldest brother took me to the village. I invited some knowledgeable old farmers and found a cemetery on the hillside. An uncle carefully explored the landform and searched several places in a row. Finally,

With the sound of the trumpet, our whole family gathered around our mother and tried our best to support the family who lost their father.

I lost my father like this, and I didn't even have time to remember what it was like to see my father at last. Mother said from time to time that she didn't know where they had left her father. Until one dark night, someone knocked at the door. That kind of gentle, but thrilling knock on the door. These days, we don't see' normal people'. I don't know what it will be. There was a pause at the knock on the door, and then it sounded tenacious. Mother motioned for Big Brother to open the door and told me to follow him. Do not go out. In the dark, there stood a tight man in a black coat and a big mask. Say to the eldest brother, I have the whereabouts of your father, please come out. Eldest brother said, you can come in and talk. He hesitated, walked into the corridor, stood in the shadow of the light, and said to his mother, I am a friend. I'm telling you, if you want to find bones in the future, go find this friend. He said his friend's name and left silently. It turned out to be an old subordinate of my father before his death. He followed the parade after the criticism meeting and waited for another criticism meeting in the cemetery in the outer suburbs. A blue brick was secretly placed where his father was buried. Send someone else to tell us the news. In the red terror of the city shrouded by dark clouds, this friend's righteous act left an indelible mark on my young mind. You know, he was the only friend who walked into our house for a long time after that disastrous day. Kind people dare not come to see us, so they let the children and our friends come to the door to play and secretly tell my father that he is a good man. For many years, I can't forget what adults relayed from their children.

I haven't seen my father for eight years. It was the same friend who told us personally that the burial of my father's cemetery should level the land and build an agricultural school. He has arranged for us to take out the body. Mother decided to be cremated. It was another clear autumn, and my eldest brother took me to the village. I invited some knowledgeable old farmers and found a cemetery on the hillside. An uncle carefully explored the landform and searched several places in a row. Finally,

With the sound of the trumpet, our whole family gathered around our mother and tried our best to support the family who lost their father.

I lost my father like this, and I didn't even have time to remember what it was like to see my father at last. Mother said from time to time that she didn't know where they had left her father. Until one dark night, someone knocked at the door. That kind of gentle, but thrilling knock on the door. These days, we don't see' normal people'. I don't know what it will be. There was a pause at the knock on the door, and then it sounded tenacious. Mother motioned for Big Brother to open the door and told me to follow him. Do not go out. In the dark, there stood a tight man in a black coat and a big mask. Say to the eldest brother, I have the whereabouts of your father, please come out. Eldest brother said, you can come in and talk. He hesitated, walked into the corridor, stood in the shadow of the light, and said to his mother, I am a friend. I'm telling you, if you want to find bones in the future, go find this friend. He said his friend's name and left silently. It turned out to be an old subordinate of my father before his death. He followed the parade after the criticism meeting and waited for another criticism meeting in the cemetery in the outer suburbs. A blue brick was secretly placed where his father was buried. Send someone else to tell us the news. In the red terror of the city shrouded by dark clouds, this friend's righteous act left an indelible mark on my young mind. You know, he was the only friend who walked into our house for a long time after that disastrous day. Kind people dare not come to see us, so they let the children and our friends come to the door to play and secretly tell my father that he is a good man. For many years, I can't forget what adults relayed from their children.

I haven't seen my father for eight years. It was the same friend who told us personally that the burial of my father's cemetery should level the land and build an agricultural school. He has arranged for us to take out the body. Mother decided to be cremated. It was another clear autumn, and my eldest brother took me to the village. I invited some knowledgeable old farmers and found a cemetery on the hillside. An uncle carefully explored the landform and searched several places in a row. Finally,

With the sound of the trumpet, our whole family gathered around our mother and tried our best to support the family who lost their father.

I lost my father like this, and I didn't even have time to remember what it was like to see my father at last. Mother said from time to time that she didn't know where they had left her father. Until one dark night, someone knocked at the door. That kind of gentle, but thrilling knock on the door. These days, we don't see' normal people'. I don't know what it will be. There was a pause at the knock on the door, and then it sounded tenacious. Mother motioned for Big Brother to open the door and told me to follow him. Do not go out. In the dark, there stood a tight man in a black coat and a big mask. Say to the eldest brother, I have the whereabouts of your father, please come out. Eldest brother said, you can come in and talk. He hesitated, walked into the corridor, stood in the shadow of the light, and said to his mother, I am a friend. I'm telling you, if you want to find bones in the future, go find this friend. He said his friend's name and left silently. It turned out to be an old subordinate of my father before his death. He followed the parade after the criticism meeting and waited for another criticism meeting in the cemetery in the outer suburbs. A blue brick was secretly placed where his father was buried. Send someone else to tell us the news. In the red terror of the city shrouded by dark clouds, this friend's righteous act left an indelible mark on my young mind. You know, he was the only friend who walked into our house for a long time after that disastrous day. Kind people dare not come to see us, so they let the children and our friends come to the door to play and secretly tell my father that he is a good man. For many years, I can't forget what adults relayed from their children.

I haven't seen my father for eight years. It was the same friend who told us personally that the burial of my father's cemetery should level the land and build an agricultural school. He has arranged for us to take out the body. Mother decided to be cremated. It was another clear autumn, and my eldest brother took me to the village. I invited some knowledgeable old farmers and found a cemetery on the hillside. An uncle carefully explored the landform and searched several places in a row. Finally,

With the sound of the trumpet, our whole family gathered around our mother and tried our best to support the family who lost their father.

I lost my father like this, and I didn't even have time to remember what it was like to see my father at last. Mother said from time to time that she didn't know where they had left her father. Until one dark night, someone knocked at the door. That kind of gentle, but thrilling knock on the door. These days, we don't see' normal people'. I don't know what it will be. There was a pause at the knock on the door, and then it sounded tenacious. Mother motioned for Big Brother to open the door and told me to follow him. Do not go out. In the dark, there stood a tight man in a black coat and a big mask. Say to the eldest brother, I have the whereabouts of your father, please come out. Eldest brother said, you can come in and talk. He hesitated, walked into the corridor, stood in the shadow of the light, and said to his mother, I am a friend. I'm telling you, if you want to find bones in the future, go find this friend. He said his friend's name and left silently. It turned out to be an old subordinate of my father before his death. He followed the parade after the criticism meeting and waited for another criticism meeting in the cemetery in the outer suburbs. A blue brick was secretly placed where his father was buried. Send someone else to tell us the news. In the red terror of the city shrouded by dark clouds, this friend's righteous act left an indelible mark on my young mind. You know, he was the only friend who walked into our house for a long time after that disastrous day. Kind people dare not come to see us, so they let the children and our friends come to the door to play and secretly tell my father that he is a good man. For many years, I can't forget what adults relayed from their children.

I haven't seen my father for eight years. It was the same friend who told us personally that the burial of my father's cemetery should level the land and build an agricultural school. He has arranged for us to take out the body. Mother decided to be cremated. It was another clear autumn, and my eldest brother took me to the village. I invited some knowledgeable old farmers and found a cemetery on the hillside. An uncle carefully explored the landform and searched several places in a row. Finally,

Find that brick. Say, this is it. Dig. It is a typical hilly area of the northern Loess Plateau. The loess ridge is layered and extends irregularly on the mountain. Father's coffin was buried at the root of a loess ridge, half underground and half on the ground. During the excavation, a grave was found below. The grave is shallow and easy to open. Surprisingly, the coffin was basically intact, and the original plan to go in and examine the bones could not be realized. So it took a lot of effort to drag the coffin floor out. The coffin was hastily nailed with plywood and plywood, and it broke when touched. Surprisingly, the multilayer posters on the coffin cover are clearly visible in black and white, which is shocking. Carefully removing the coffin wall, I saw my father. For eight years, I've dressed like a man. Wool tunic suit, stockings, leather shoes and wool hat. The limbs exposed outside the clothes are black and gelatinous, and they are not completely dry. According to the old farmer present, I wanted to check the bones because of the sunny and dry weather, but someone suggested that the whole body be cremated, which has been completed. My brother took the advice and spread a new quilt on the floor. Everybody help carry the body into the quilt and wrap it up. After that, my eldest brother took me to bow to my uncles and aunts who helped me, thanked everyone and gave me some cigarettes and bottles of wine. Let me see the bones. He borrowed a flatbed car from the village.

It was an autumn evening, and a yellow wind was blowing from time to time on the Loess Plateau. I stood alone by the brand-new quilt package. There was silence all around, and even the crows that appeared from time to time disappeared, as if they were far away from the world. After many years, I still can't figure out the mood at that time. A kind of numbness, a kind of previous life, a kind of doubt, mixed with a trace of fear. Another gust of wind swept the yellow dust that had lost its eyes. Suddenly, Big Brother left forever. I dare not face up to the colorful quilt on the barren land, but I can't take my eyes off it. It seems that it disappeared as soon as I left. After cremation, the remains were placed in the cemetery hall of the martyrs cemetery. Every year in Tomb-Sweeping Day, my eldest brother and I go to see it. Find out from the rows of urns, hold them down, and wipe the dust off the boxes and small photos with new silk. Light some incense, silently. In the last Tomb-Sweeping Day before going abroad, we changed to a better urn. Eldest brother picked some big bones and poured some broken bones into a red silk bag. I don't know why, but I also picked a bone and touched the ashes with my hand. Burn the rest.

Father had another feeling in his heart.

Last year, my eldest brother wrote, and the cemetery was also reformed. The cemetery is built to encourage people to buy graves and build their own graves. My brother and I paid for it, and my eldest brother made it specially and built a grave for his father. I bought the best stones, carved tombstones and pillars, chose the biggest and most expensive place, and buried my father forever. Later, eldest brother sent photos, which is a good cemetery. Big brother takes things very seriously. List the specific procedures and expenses item by item. Big brother is also quite feudal. My sister and my sister in Europe learned about this and asked to share it. Big brother said he didn't agree with anything. Said this is a son's business, and the daughter can't intervene. Mom can't convince him either. As a result, my sister complained My sister cried twice. I can't help it My sister is my father's favorite daughter. Eldest brother wrote the words on the tombstone, but showed them to his sister. I received the photo and looked at it for a long time, but I still couldn't clearly understand my feelings. My father's memory of me is still fragmentary, and his death brought us indirect influence at that time.

In my impression, my father is always busy. We came back from school in the evening, and he didn't go home until after dinner. Eat something and start reading the newspaper. There are often uncles coming to the house for meetings. When I got up in the morning, my brother and I sat on both sides of his desk with a bowl of rice, waiting for my father to listen to the news broadcast and Yuan Kuocheng to tell stories. He went up and left. On several weekends, my family went out to take family photos. My father hugged my brother and my mother hugged me. The eldest brother is standing next to his father, and the elder sister and the younger sister are standing in the middle. Besides, it's hard to get close. When I was six years old, I got viral pneumonia. My mother found me always lazy and a little feverish. As soon as I checked, I said I would stay in the hospital. It's already night. Lying in bed, I suddenly heard my father call a car. I was too scared to speak. Then everyone rushed to give me medicine and water. Wipe my sweat. Soon, a jeep appeared outside, and the lights swept into the window. It's dazzling. My father bent down, put his hands on my head, stared at me and said, Dad, take you to the hospital. I seldom spoil my parents. I don't know why, I suddenly cried and said to my father, Dad, I'm afraid. I don't want to go to the hospital. In the hazy tears, my father was silent for a while, and two big tears fell on my face. He bent down and kissed me. Get up and walk away. After a while, I heard 69 Jeep start, the car left, and I stayed at home. Once, I woke up in the middle of the night and had to pee. Found mom not in our big bed. I was in a hurry to pee and jumped out of bed. From the half-closed door of my father's house, I saw my father leaning against my mother, with his head propped up on one arm, saying something. Mom saw me and remembered. Dad stopped mom. He got out of bed and helped me back to bed, tucked in the quilt and patted me on the face. These two little things are the intimate contact my father left me.

More, it's the influence our father's death has brought to us, politically, in life and psychologically. After my father died, our family was sealed off, and all the possessions were less than a trolley, and they were given a Datong house. My mother borrowed some bed boards from the office and a jar of rice and flour from a neighbor's house to start a new day. I learned to pick up cinders, dig wild vegetables, nail shoes and mend clothes. . . It was also in those poor days that I felt the pressure of my father's death and the reward of his good image in people's hearts. We will often walk on the road, and people we don't know will come to the meeting and say that your father is a good man. When I graduated from middle school and entered the factory, all the teachers said the same thing to me. At the end of the month, the neighbors sent their books when they couldn't open the pot. In those hard years, ordinary people's evaluation of their father and their concern for us have always been the spiritual strength to support us to live. Father's shadow always follows us. Once, my brother fought with the children in the yard next door and provoked a rebellious son. When his father came back, he flew into a rage and wanted to hit his brother. Brother's friend came out to start work and was stopped by Brother. That guy swore, grabbed his arm and sleeve, and kept saying that he would hit you black children. The neighbor couldn't stand it, so he coaxed him out. Eldest brother vowed to practice martial arts from now on, and often asked me to accompany him to the river to practice martial arts. Then it became famous. Three or four meters high wall, two steps, one hand, can fly over. After arriving at the factory, I made three whips, a red cherry spear and a stainless steel sword for him. As the eldest son, eldest brother was most affected by his father's death. In the next few years, many things will have to be done by the eldest son. He can best feel the difficult process of rehabilitating his father. I've also tasted all kinds of political pressure. When my brother and I grew up, the shadow of the Cultural Revolution was not so serious, and my father's death was more a regret in life.

I wonder what this shortcoming is.

When you go abroad, bring some family photos. There are photos of my parents in their early years, family photos of my childhood, and photos of my father shortly before his death. Looking at his young, big eyes and cultured photos, I still can't help but dwell on the idea that my father died at the same age as me. . .

More than 30 years later, my father is still a mystery and a question in my heart. But this complex of constant cutting and confusion is the best example that blood is thicker than water. I once had a father, who used to hang out with me and will go through my life. I can't say the word love, but this article is dedicated to my father and I wish you a happy holiday.

Attachment: In Tomb-Sweeping Day this spring, some netizens wrote inscriptions, which are also arty. Writing this again is a portrayal of my mood.

Rain after rain,

Dreaming of the old grave in the garden.

The world is full of flesh and blood,

A wisp of acacia soothes the lonely soul.

When can we get back to basics?

Lyrics of Butterfly Kiss

There are two things I know for sure.

She was sent here from heaven.

She is dad's little girl.

When I kneel by her bed at night

She talked to Jesus and I closed my eyes.

I thank God for all the happiness in my life.

Oh, but most importantly. ...

Butterfly kiss after bedtime prayer

Her hair is covered with small white flowers.

"Walking beside the pony, Dad, this is my first time riding a horse."

"I know the cake looks funny, Dad, but I did try my best."

Oh, even though I did a lot of wrong things.

I must have done something right.

Worth hugging every morning.

And a butterfly kiss at night.

Today is sweet sixteen.

She looks more and more like her mother.

Half of them are women and the other half are girls.

From ribbons and curly hair to perfume and cosmetics.

Try her wings in a great world.

But I remember ...

Butterfly kiss after bedtime prayer

Her hair is covered with small white flowers.

"You know how much I love you, Dad, but if you don't mind,

I'm only going to kiss you on the cheek this time. "

Oh, even though I did a lot of wrong things.

I must have done something right.

Worth her loving every morning.

And a butterfly kiss at night.

All the precious time

Like the wind, the years pass by.

Precious butterfly

Spread your wings and fly

She will change her name today.

She will make a promise, and I will give her to the groom.

Stand in the bride's room and stare at her.

She asked me what I was thinking

I said, "I'm not sure,

I just think I'm going to lose my baby girl. "

Then she leaned over and gave it to me. ...

Butterfly kiss, where is her mother?

Her hair was covered with small flowers.

"Walk me down the aisle, Dad. It's time."

"Dad, is my wedding dress nice?"

"Dad, don't cry."

Oh, even though I did a lot of wrong things.

I must have done something right.

Worth her love and butterfly kiss every morning.

I can't ask God for more.

Dude, this is love.

I know I have to let her go

But I will always remember.

Every hug in the morning, and a butterfly kiss. ...

Music download

Butterfly Kiss) MP3 download link

Related links:

& gt& gt Bob Carlisle official website

& gt& gt Father's Day History

The creation and publication process of Butterfly Kiss described by Bob Carlisle in Shadow of Grace;

Kiss of the Butterfly is my first album released through Crown Records. I will never forget the first time I met George King, the boss and president of Diadem Records. He looked me straight in the eye and told me that he liked what I did. He knows every song ... every album. Then he said, "Bob, I don't have much, but I do. I'll give it to you." For artists, these words are more important than gold, because they represent a true faith, not just a short-term investment. We have sold more than 3 million albums since that little meeting.

The song "Butterfly Kiss" was written for my daughter Brooke, just before her16th birthday. Late one night, I suddenly realized that my baby daughter has grown up and she won't stay in my house for long. The joy of so many happy memories and the burden of missing opportunities collided in my heart, and the songs poured out like this. When I wrote it down, I never thought it would be recorded, whether in my record or anyone else's record. I am satisfied that this is my personal love letter to Brooke. I am humbled and excited by its success, but above all, I fear God. I am living proof that he can do anything he wants.

Bob Carlisle