The touching story of classic love

# Ability Training # Introduction Affection is a drop of dew after rain, nourishing the originally barren soil; Affection is the crow at dawn, awakening the sleeping earth and sharing the touching story of affection for everyone. Let's have a look!

A touching family story

Former US President Ronald Reagan had a quarrel with his little daughter Patty, but Patty regretted it after Reagan suffered from Alzheimer's disease. Those days when she struggled with her parents became her most painful memories. How much she wants to hear her father's voice and story again. Such a confession seems a little late, but it seems too late, because it made her memoir "Long Farewell" come out and brought many inspirations to people.

When I was about ten years old, my father and I drove to a ranch, which was our family's ranch when I was a child. On the way, we talked about my father's love horse Nancy D and its upcoming foal. This was not a planned birth: a horse for her father, Apaloo Sachon, bravely crossed two fences, met Nancy D, and successfully became a father.

When I drove into the barn clearing of the ranch, I saw Ray who was in charge of looking after the ranch. His face was covered with tears and his eyes were red and swollen from crying. He stood in front of his father with his head down, unwilling to look straight into his eyes. We immediately realized that something unexpected must have happened.

It turned out that Nancy D died of an unknown virus infection the night before. Without any symptoms or signs, the virus killed Nancy D and her unborn child at lightning speed!

My eyes immediately filled with tears, because Nancy D was the first horse I ever rode. When I was very young, it was usually my father who rode a horse and let me sit in the saddle in front of him. When I was a little older, he picked me up and sat on Nancy D's back and took me for a walk. On this day, when I looked at my father with his back to the blue sky, I found that there was not a tear in his eyes! He looked up at the blue, and his eyes showed infinite affection and tenderness.

"Why don't you cry?" I asked my father in tears.

He lovingly put his hand on my shoulder and looked me in the eye. "because," he said, "I'm thinking about all the good times I spent with Nancy D. We spent many unforgettable scenes together. " I looked at my father doubtfully, and then I understood the truth.

This is the first lesson in my life, about how to look at death-beyond death, looking back on the existing life, even if there are only sporadic beautiful moments, this is the meaning of life and life, which we must experience and bear in the journey of life, and which my father must try to teach me.

Father teaches all his children to ride bicycles in the same way. When the student wheel was taken off, he ran after us and grabbed the back of the car seat with his hand, so that we could feel safe. Once, without our knowledge, he would let go. I still remember looking back, hoping to see my father still protecting me, only to find that I rode a distance without his help-he stood there, smiling and waving to me.

Father also firmly believes that children should be prepared for disasters in life, otherwise, once disasters happen, we will be caught off guard by shock and mutation. He will give us some situations to face and deal with, and then patiently teach us that only knowledge can help us face the danger of life.

Once he asked me, "What would you do if your bedroom caught fire and blocked the way to the door?" I have seen many similar scenes in movies, and I immediately replied, "I ran."

"Then you will die," father said quietly. "When you are only two feet away from the flame, the high temperature will burn your lungs. “

"Then I'll break the glass and run into the yard."

"Well," he nodded, "how did you break the glass?"

"Use the chair."

My father leaned over and said to me in a very slow but serious tone, eager for his advice to take root in my heart: "You pull out a drawer and use it to break the glass. In this way, a neat gap is formed, and you won't be scratched by the glass when you climb out. "

This is my father. He taught me how to look at death, how to defend against fire, how to face air raid sirens and earthquakes, but he just forgot to teach me how to face the disaster of losing him and how to face my confession in any way. These have become painful memories hidden in my heart. I really hope there is a possibility of a cure, but I haven't found it yet.

Touching love story 2

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 brand-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 is well fed and clothed.

My father is a contented person, but my mother is a challenging woman. At that time, my mother resigned and went to a private 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, and ran around with others in my spare time to earn some pocket money to supplement my family. That day, I got a message that a performance team needed a handyman to load and unload the stage, and at the same time, they could dance on the stage at the beginning. I was so excited that 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 it is now. It was a village in the city, and we had to go to Shanghai by coach. My father rides his "28" bike, and 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 while running. Father pushed the car after me, so we rushed to the long-distance bus station. At that time, it was a 20-minute bus. When a bus arrived at the station, I quickly jumped on it and the door closed behind me. I saw what my father said on the platform, but I couldn't hear anything.

I bowed my head and took money to buy a ticket. This bow ... turned out to be a lifetime.

The next afternoon, my father died of a cerebral hemorrhage. When he left, he was very calm, and his face was as golden as paper, without leaving a word. I hung out with the motorcade. 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, looks down for money, and doesn't even wave. At the station, a middle-aged man pushing a car tried to say something, but I couldn't hear, I couldn't hear. ...

Is there any 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 have been with 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.

Affectionate and touching story 3

In my opinion, he is the most honest and kind person in the world. Be honest, behave yourself, treat others wholeheartedly, and don't say glib words. Say things are always one, one, two, two, and always rooted in reality.

When my father was away, I kept pigs at home, and most of them were eaten by my father. If you are not careful, your chest ribs will hit the wall through the pigsty, and it will always hurt for several days at a time.

Feel the pain of my father-this kind of pain was planted in my heart for a long time when my father died more than 20 years ago. It is not the kind of disease that can be cured by a few pills, a few memories or some time. This is a new feeling about my father's life. Hemoptysis and suffocation sent my father to another world. Touch my father's warm hands and chest lying on the coffin bed, kiss my father's face, and the pain will flow out through crying, and then there will be countless wet nights next to my pillow, and then endless dreams.

Busy with work during the day, I will see my father in my dreams from time to time at night.

The past years seem so clear. In hot summer, I bathe in the river and play in the water. My father called me from the shore: "Hey, Sangoutou, come up quickly, there are' water ghosts' in the river." I made a face at my father, and then jumped into the water with a splash ... Seeing this scene, my father "fished" me out of the river, and I giggled naked in my father's arms. The children didn't know that my father had loose bowels in those two days, and it hurt badly after soaking in the river. I still remember the cold sweat oozing from my father's forehead. My father's stomach and one side of his abdomen became rough, which was caused by his frequent rubbing to relieve the pain. During the great famine in the 1960s, cooking at home was sometimes interrupted. Yanbei godmother sent a few catties of carrots, which were life-saving carrots. Father eats very fast, and carrots, radishes and other wild vegetables are cooked and "swallowed straight". A little delicate food is always reserved for children. You couldn't bear to throw out the porridge and rice, but your father ate it. My father has a good digestive function, but sometimes he has a stomachache. The head of the family naturally wants to "seek rice and eat rice." Through those years of hunger, thinking that "children grow on their heads", fathers always leave hunger to themselves and store the only fragrance in life on their children in different ways. If it weren't for Aunt Ding Xi's concern for his younger brother, his father would rarely have a new dress to wear, even coarse foreign cloth. My father always wore rags before his death-he turned on the "computer" of his memory. Even if the "mouse" flashed by, there were few photos of his father wearing new clothes in the "file". My father usually walks very fast, gets close to the distance and smoothes the road under my feet. On a cold day, my father went out to kill pigs with a big basket on his back. On the way, the seam of the old cotton trousers he was wearing leaked and his feet began to get cold. After killing the pig, he came home with dysentery and his stomach ached again. 1981September 18, my father died, and none of the clothes after cremation were new, not even semi-new.

My family is poor, and my father suffered too much when he was alive. In my dreams, I often see him very cheerful, or so kind and kind-in my feeling, he is the most honest and kind person in the world. Be honest, behave yourself, treat others wholeheartedly, and don't say glib words. Say things are always one, one, two, two, and always rooted in reality. The older generation in Cao Yan street said, "Laughing often (my father's nickname) is the most honest." Although their families are poor, they are still poor and always think of others. There were many beggars in rags during the famine. In those days, my father would rather tighten his belt, but whenever he saw a "Hanako" passing by the door, he always tried his best to fill his stomach with some hot rice and porridge. Seeing a "Hanako" standing naked at the door, his father felt sorry for him, so he put on an old blue cloth jacket of his own. Years later, I still remember this patched double-breasted jacket. Mother said that this jacket was made by Aunt Ding on her father's 40th birthday. I don't want to wear it at ordinary times, but I only wear it when I am happy, visiting relatives and friends, and Chinese New Year. When I was a child, my father wore this jacket and took me to menstruation's house several times. Since I cherish it so much, why did I reluctantly give it to a "beggar" I didn't know? My mother didn't understand at first, and of course we were surprised as children Later, I asked my father why: he had a dream that night, and the bodhisattva in the dream told him to do so. He said: "People should do good things, not bad things. Anyway, no matter what you do, people don't know, and Bodhisattva knows. "

Father is such a traditional and simple person, and his father is also a temperament middleman. 1969, on this day, dust filled the sky and leaves fell one after another. The local revolutionary committee sent dozens of militiamen to demolish the Guan Yue Temple. At that time, anyone who dared to say "no" was "current *". When the statues of Guan Gong and Yue Fei were dragged down by the rope, my father couldn't bear to see them and went home to cry. I was 18 years old that year. That night, I served hot porridge to my father. My father opened the porridge bowl with tears and hoarse voice. "It's so sad that the ancient temple that Cao Yan guarded for hundreds of years was demolished!" My father didn't eat for two days in a row.

Growing up, I lived with my father for 30 years. I feel my father's heart and know him well. My father is my closest relative in the world. With my father, I enjoy the truest feelings in the world; With my father, I can say anything. But my father is gone, and there are some words. Who can I talk to? Every year during the Qingming Festival and the Spring Festival, I will take my daughter to my father's grave to meet him. A few feet away, I'm above and my father is below, but it's so difficult to get far away. Kneeling here, I poured out my heart in my diary without any cover. Birds flew over the branches and watched the scene. When I touch the cemetery, it's like touching my father's body-does my father feel pain? At this time, I really hope he has pain; Pain means existence of life.

The Wangs have been engaged in slaughter for generations. I carefully kept the knife, hook, plane and stick that my father used to kill pigs before his death. Although they are rusty, I always feel that my father's body temperature is still on them. Often in the dead of night, I can hear these "swordsmen" holding each other under the bed, or saying that "a person must have an indomitable soul if he wants to surpass himself", or "as long as his spine is not bent, there is no mountain he can't afford." ... with a long aftertaste, I know this is my dialogue with my father's soul. The eyes of Dream are open: the father is anxious to find his lost son, and the son hears his father's call on a long country road. Those sounds are as familiar as oil lamps walking at night-simple light deeply touches the heart of a childhood and even affects the spiritual structure of a lifetime. Father is a height, and he is also a book in my heart. I have been reading it, and maybe I can't read it thoroughly when I am old. This is because our nation has experienced thousands of years, and the "genes" of generations have accumulated on our parents. Father is also a river in my heart, and endless memories are family memories. Even if people start to go to another village of mankind, where there are our more ancient ancestors, as long as there is blood flowing, my father has been walking in my body-talking to my father, thinking of the morning when my father was ill, I came home from the school in the world, took my father to the hospital, held his shoulder and felt his tendons and muscles shaking. At that time, I couldn't wait to replace my father's pain. Although "death" disagreed, my father's pain did stay in my body.

The moonlight is bright and the shore is drifting. Towards the years, love is a pain that goes deep into the bone marrow. In the words of crowding round, my soul has endured the pain of my father's love and has gone through a long time.

Affectionate and touching story 4

There are father and son living in the simple room downstairs. They go to collect junk during the day and live here when they come back at night.

My father is in his forties and my son is in his teens. What's more sad is that they are all disabled and walk with a limp. My father has a hunchback and looks only 1.6 meters. My son is good-looking, but his feet are not good. They limped to collect junk and a broken three-wheeled car.

When I moved, I gave them what I didn't want-old books, newspapers, old furniture and a small bed. I said, "It's free. I gave it to you. " Obviously, they were very moved. That's it. We've met.

The man surnamed Bai is from Anhui. Being poor, his daughter-in-law left with someone else. He came to the north alone with his children and made a living by collecting junk. He is too slow to talk much.

One day, my neighbor suddenly told me that Lao Bai seemed to be seeing someone. I really saw it once later. She is also a woman with a child. She lives locally and has a house. She plans to live with him. Laobai doesn't want to.

I'm a little puzzled. Ask Lao Bai. Laobai smoked, pack after pack. He said: "I dare not get married, for fear of delaying others and saving money. My son's leg needs an operation, and the cost exceeds100000 yuan. The doctor said the sooner the better. I can't let him limp. I can't get married Once I get married, the burden will be heavy. "

I haven't seen Lao Bai for many days. Because the shack was demolished, I always suspected that he had gone somewhere else.

Then I heard something, and tears fell.

Something happened to my friend. My friend is a construction worker. He hired a man. A few days later, he fell from the upstairs, and the company wanted to treat him. He said, "Don't treat me. I am in my forties. Give me some money to operate on my son. "

People in the company don't understand and don't want to give the money.

The man cried and said, "Please operate on him. I ... I did it on purpose ... If something happens to me, I will lose money. I want you to operate on my son. It is not easy for this child to follow me. " I also want to tell you that my son ... I picked him up and I couldn't have a baby at all ... "

The friend cried. He told the company to operate on his son. Help him!

After the operation, the child stopped limping. During the Spring Festival, the father and son sent some corn and sweet potatoes to the boss of the company. They knew how grateful they were. The boss of the company still shuttles through various businesses, but he can't forget this secret.

Laobai once said, "I don't want my son to know this secret, because my son says I am the father of the world."

There are always all kinds of secrets in the world, and the most bitter secret is that Lao Bai loves his children wholeheartedly, but the children don't know it. Laobai is not his real father.

Maybe true love is like this: I love you without asking for anything in return; I love you, with my heart, with my life, with everything I have-as long as I have it.