At one or two o'clock in the middle of the night, there will be loud footsteps going up the stairs. Sometimes it sounds like two people are walking and chatting.

I finished reading this touching article "Father" with tears in my eyes. The story is very cruel: In 1948, a father took his daughter to meet his wife in the United States. On the boat, the father was peeling an apple with a knife. The boat suddenly shook violently. The father accidentally fell down and the knife pierced his chest. The daughter screamed in fright. The father smiled and said, "It's okay, I just fell." "Then he slowly got up and unobtrusively wiped the blood on the knife with his thumb. For the next three days, the father still put his daughter to sleep every night and tied the bow for her in the morning, but every minute he was getting weaker than the last. The night before the ship arrived in the United States, the father said to his daughter: "Please tell mom that I love her." The daughter asked puzzledly, "Why don't you say it yourself?" He smiled. When the ship arrived at the port, the daughter recognized her mother at a glance and shouted: "Mom!" At this time, there was a cry of surprise around her. When the daughter turned around, she saw her father lying on his back with blood gushing from his chest. . . . . . A great father died tragically. This father protected his daughter by prolonging her life. He created a miracle of life for three days. His only power was his father's love. Although the knife penetrated his heart with incomparable accuracy, he lived tenaciously for three more days for his daughter! The father fulfilled his duty to protect his daughter before his death and died without regrets. Poor parents in the world! Every father has his own way of expressing his love for his children, some are silent, some are vigorous, some are meticulous, some are asking for help, but they all express a kind of love that can move the world - father's love. Maybe you feel that your father is busy with work and doesn't care enough about you, but who can deny that your father expresses his father's love with silent care? Maybe you feel that your father is too wordy for asking this and that every day, but who can say that your father doesn't care for you meticulously? The answer is: no one can!

You can say that this story is dramatic, but the deep love is real.

Father's love

It is often said that father's love is like a mountain, tall and majestic; father's love is like a pool of water, hidden deep; father's love is like a pair of hands, touching us Through spring, summer, autumn and winter; and father's love is a tear, a tear full of warmth.

When I was young, my father was a symbol of severity. He was like an axe, trying to get rid of all my bad habits. My father often said: "You are just like a tree, and the tree will grow branches randomly. It’s time to get rid of all your problems and develop good habits. My father never paid attention to my studies. My father firmly believed that with good habits, everything would be possible. This belief has kept me strong until now. The belief and look are always in front of me. Yes, my father is strong.

As I was about to embark on the journey, my mother held my hand and choked me with tears. I understand the duration and tenderness of maternal love. But my father just stood in the distance, supporting his majesty with his inherent strength. He just looked at the train, looked at the window, looked at me, and then smiled, slightly raising the corners of his mouth. . It was a kind of pride, or an indescribable bitterness. Then he lowered his head slightly, clenched his fists, and then raised his head. I looked at him, turned around, and wiped the tears with my hands. The tears full of longing destroyed his strong stature, and it was his longing for me that turned into a tear.

Father's love does not have the tenderness of extending, the warm words of consideration, the blessing that can be carried with you at any time, or the warmth that accompanies you day and night. Father's love is a drop of tear, summarizing all language. .

Father's love is like Zen

The scene of that day, when I was sleepy and lazy, in the lonely midnight, appeared clearly before my eyes like a slow motion in a movie... …

At 4 o’clock in the morning, on the day of registration for college freshmen, my father gently woke me up and said that he was leaving. I got up in confusion while the other freshmen were sleeping sweetly. What a beautiful and happy dream they must have in their hearts at this moment! Because of my heart disease, the school insisted that I must undergo a strict physical examination by an expert team before I can be accepted.

The future is uncertain, the road ahead is vast, and a feeling of being abandoned by the whole world surrounds me. My heart is filled with desolation and misery. After staying for a long time, I said, can't you wait for my physical examination before going back? There was a cry in the words. My father took out a cigarette, but couldn't light it. I said you took it down. My father smiled bitterly, lit it up again, and took two deep breaths. I suddenly found a pile of cigarette butts on the ground, and realized that the flickering cigarette butts when I woke up from the cold in the middle of the night were not a dream. My father probably had not slept all night!

Silence. The classmates were snoring.

"You know, I'm busy at work." My father's hand holding the cigarette was shaking a little, with a look of guilt on his face, "I don't have 7 days to accompany you to wait for the expert team."

There was silence for a long time. The smoke burned to the end, but my father was completely unaware. I said you go, I'll see you off.

My father was in front and I was behind. No one spoke. When I went down the stairs, the white hair on my father’s head under the bright light stung my eyes. Overnight, my father became much older.

The city that was bustling during the day was now deserted. There was not a single pedestrian on the road, only our father and son. Some unknown bugs were hiding in the corner and screaming sadly.

At the crossroads, my father suddenly stopped, turned around and looked at me carefully, smiled hard, and patted me gently on the shoulder: "It's nothing, just go back!" Then he turned around. Turned around and left.

My mind was at a loss. I just watched him leave step by step, trying hard to capture my father's figure under the dim street light. I hope my father will look back again and see his favorite son who has never left him. But I only saw some hesitation and staggering in my father's steps. For a moment, my father even stopped for a moment, but the stubborn father never turned around again. I don’t know how long it took before I realized that my father had already disappeared from my sight. The moment I turned around and went back, tears suddenly burst into my eyes.

Seven days later, I successfully passed the physical examination. I excitedly called my father to tell him, but my father said lightly: "That's for sure."

But later my mother told me sadly that she was waiting. During those days of physical examination, my father, who was usually vigorous and capable, suddenly became like a mother-in-law. He would suddenly wake up in the middle of the night and scream my nickname. During meals, he would suddenly ask my mother whether I was acclimatized in that city. I would sit on the TV every day. I watched the weather forecast for my city intently in front of the plane... As I listened, I burst into tears again...

My father never mentioned these things, and I never asked about them. I understand that some of the pain and disasters in this world cannot be communicated in words, even between father and son. Father's love is like Zen, it is inconvenient to ask or explain, it can only be understood.

The sound of suona is full of fatherly love

When I was 6 years old, my mother died. I clearly remember that before my mother died, there was a tear hanging from the corner of her eye. Those tears trembled and shone under the autumn sun, filled with concern for me and my mute father.

After his mother left, the burden of life fell on the shoulders of his mute father. My father makes "bean curd brain" every day to support our father and son's lives. Late every night, under the dim light, my father struggled to push the heavy stone mill in circles. White soy milk flowed out from the cracks in the grinding mill, and his clothes were soaked with sweat beads as big as beans. After grinding the soy milk, my father had to put the soy milk into a clay pot, put it in the pot, light a fire, and wait by the stove for two or three hours.

My father set out before dawn, carrying a load and leading me through the streets and alleys. My father couldn't bark, so he could only play a worn-out suona to attract business. That sad and melodious suona sound accompanied me through my childhood. At that time, I loved watching my father play the suona, with his head held high, energetic and powerful, as tall as a giant.

But gradually, after I went to school, whenever I was with my classmates, someone would always make a suona shape with their hands and make strange noises. My face turned red and white, and I knew they were imitating their father. From then on, I was afraid of being laughed at by my classmates and no longer had the feeling I had when I was a child when I watched my father play the suona. I began to avoid being with my father as much as possible. Once, several classmates were imitating my father's suona and making random gestures. I was so angry that I jumped up and started fighting with them. As a result, he was beaten until his face was covered with blood, and he ran home crying.

When my father saw me like this, he quickly ran over with a towel, wiping it and gesticulating and asking me, "What's wrong?"

I pushed my father away and shouted to him loudly: "Why are you mute? Why can't you speak like the fathers of other children?" Although my father couldn't hear what I said, he was My expression was stunned. He seemed to read something from my face and stood aside silently.

That night, my father played the suona all night long. There was crying in the sound of the suona, and it seemed to be telling something...

In the days that followed, my father was "double-brained". I also began to avoid my way to school as much as possible. I knew that my father must not want to make his son sad. But at that time, I only had one wish, which was to quickly enter high school and study in the city. That way, no one will know that I have a mute father.

Finally, I was admitted to the county high school with excellent results and only returned home once a month. Every time I go home, my father will look at me for a long time. Whenever he stretched out his hand to touch me, he would shrink back timidly. He was afraid of my rejection and cold gaze. My father's face was often full of disappointment, and his eyes flashed with pain, helplessness, and sadness... He was old and his health was not as good as before, but in order to support me in my studies, he still made "bean curd brains" every day. My father always remembered my mother's concern for her children to go to college.

At this time, I often felt sad and ashamed for my selfishness and vanity, but I never said it to my father...

In the winter of my sophomore year in high school, I caught a cold. I didn't go home on the weekend. At noon on Sunday, I was lying in the dormitory. Suddenly, a familiar suona sound came from a distance. So familiar, could it be his father? I ran out of the dormitory. At this time, snowflakes were falling in the sky.

At the school gate, I saw my father. My father was covered with snow, like a white jade sculpture. The cold wind carried snowflakes and kept beating my father's thin body. My father shivered in the cold wind. He held the suona tightly with his hands that were red and swollen from the cold, and looked towards the campus while playing.

My father seemed very excited when he saw me, and he played the suona louder. Suona is my father's "mouth", and my father is "telling" me his love, his concern, his concern...

I heard from the gatekeeper that my father came before dawn. , at that time, it snowed heavily. The county seat is more than thirty miles away from home. I don't know how my father walked through the winding and uneven mountain road. The gatekeeper could not communicate with his father and had to let him stand outside the door. This stop lasted a whole morning. That's why the father played the suona. He knew that his son should be most familiar with this sound.

I want to take my father back to the dormitory to keep him warm. But my father didn't move. He just looked at me carefully from top to bottom. Then he gestured to me and asked: "A child in the same village said you are sick. I'm worried. Come and take a look." My father looked at me and gestured: I will leave in a moment and won’t go in, so as not to let my classmates know.

I felt a heart-wrenching pain, and tears of regret welled up in my eyes. I can't understand my father's mood at this moment, but I know it is sour. I gestured and told my father: "It doesn't matter, I want all my classmates to know what a good father I have."

In addition to surprise, my father's eyes were also shining with crystal tears...

Later, I finally realized my father’s dream and was admitted to college, but my father’s burden became even heavier. Every time I write a letter to my father, I always say: Dad, your suona sound is the most beautiful sound I have ever heard in the world. I will always keep it in mind and live my life!

The injustice of fate caused the father to lose the ability to speak and prevent him from expressing his love for his son in words. But his behavior made me realize deeply...Father's love is priceless.

Hope this helps