After getting off work at 11:30, I came home exhausted. I turned on my phone and browsed through my circle of friends. When I saw a post from my cousin, I couldn’t help but burst into tears...
A picture of my uncle’s back Taking a photo of her back, the text was "Dad came to pick me up from get off work. I'm sorry that I work overtime and have to carry me for a while..." The words are filled with the happiness and playfulness of a little girl. My cousin is 25 and is already talking about getting married. The wedding is scheduled for next year. The close father-daughter relationship between cousin and uncle is something I have always envied and never had, and will never have again...
In April 2018, I completely lost my father due to a sudden illness. It only took eight days from the onset of illness to death. During the first two days and two nights of these eight days, we took him from the county level to the state level and finally to the provincial hospital. After repeated examinations and diagnosis, we finally concluded that there was no good treatment plan. , his physical parameters were no longer suitable for surgery, and he would die at any time. In the end, he had to be transferred from the provincial hospital back to his hometown county hospital for conservative treatment (to put it bluntly, it was daily infusion and oxygen infusion to maintain vital signs, painkiller injections to relieve pain, and static treatment). Just wait until the last moment comes).
For these eight days, I stayed by his side, never leaving. Looking at my father who was suffering from illness, I had mixed emotions in my heart. I thought that my parents would leave me one day, but unexpectedly this happened. The farewell came so early, which caught me off guard...
My father was not a tall man. He was less than 1.7 meters tall and had a thin figure. In addition, he was bent over due to years of toil, which made him even shorter. In my memory, my father never argued with others, and almost never blushed with outsiders. He was always gentle and polite to the people around him. The elders in the village would affectionately call him by his childhood nickname. Sometimes some juniors would speak in front of us. He was not annoyed when he called his father by his nickname directly in front of him. He smiled and acquiesced. Whenever I was in such a scene, I wanted to rush up and tear the other person's mouth to pieces. My father only stopped me and said, "You are a kid." What do you know! Gradually, I stopped caring. I just felt that my father was just like the coward and coward that my mother often scolded him for...
However, such a harmless father behaved like an uncle at home. He usually bosses around his mother, bringing him wine...bringing cigarettes...bringing tea...sometimes he quarrels with his mother and even uses a few curse words. His mother's evaluation of him is that he doesn't have much ability and his temper is not bad.
My father didn’t have any great ability to make money. He relied on his skills as a mason to support the family. He was an outstanding craftsman. There was no job he couldn’t do inside and outside building houses. Several nearby villages asked him for help. There are many people working, but they can't make any money.
My father was unwilling to travel far away to work all his life. Many masons like him in the village were brought out by him and taught them some skills. Some of them were not even good at learning skills. In the city, by working on the construction site, I completely got rid of the situation of farming during the busy farming season and doing part-time work in my spare time. The wages in the city were higher and there were more opportunities. Over the past three to five years, I returned to the village one after another and built brick buildings. My father still He smiled and accepted the invitation to help with the work. He was always considerate of his master's family. He was the first to go to work every day and the last to return home. He even paid the bills before the Spring Festival. Among the many helpers, he was the only one who could not get his reward. When asked why, his father He slowly said that the host had given it to him but he didn't want it. The reason was that he had used all the money and manpower of the whole family to build a house, and the New Year was approaching, so he couldn't bear to let the other family live in poverty during the New Year. It would be the same if he settled the bill after the New Year... My mother, who was hoping that my father would get his salary back so that he could buy new year's goods, was furious and used sharp words such as "a pustule... a loser". The new clothes and shoes that he had been looking forward to for a year came to nothing. As a young man, I couldn't help but feel resentful in my heart. Too lazy to defend his father, the dull father helped others regardless of his own situation, which did not bring any sense of honor to his children. It only made the embarrassment of life worse. If the mother scolded her too much, the father would retaliate a few words, but he still didn't say anything afterwards. I would bring cigarettes...bring wine...bring tea...without any regard for the situation at home, which would result in a ruthless and sharp scolding and ridicule from my mother...
Until I entered junior high school. , my brother is in technical secondary school, the family expenses have doubled in vain, and it is no longer possible to cling to the few acres of thin farmland at home. My mother took the first step to work in the city. My father, who was determined not to go out to work, went through several entrepreneurial ventures in his life, such as growing flue-cured tobacco, raising fish in ponds, handmade briquettes, etc., all of which resulted in huge investments and little return. , cannot be maintained for a long time, and there is no mother around to help, which further proves that the father who is not good at words and is honest and dull has no talent for business. His several attempts not only failed to improve the family situation, but also made his wife and children live worse. In the end, his stubborn father bowed his head to life and joined the ranks of migrant workers with his mother.
My father was good at craftsmanship, and his wages were higher than those of my mother, who could only do odd jobs. During the years when we went out to work together, my father’s status was rapidly improved. In addition, in order to stabilize my father’s mood, my mother not only worked, but also took more care of my father. In daily life, my father's favorite tobacco, wine and tea have been slightly upgraded. Although my father is not picky about his own life, he is also quite grateful for his mother's attentiveness.
As my father also went out to work, I was the only one who stayed in my hometown to study in junior high school. With a stable income, I no longer had to worry about daily necessities at home. I could occasionally buy clothes, shoes, and socks on weekends and holidays. I didn’t need to go home to help with the farm work, and even got a second-hand bicycle. At that time, I didn’t feel the desolation of being a left-behind child. The improvement in my material life made me feel very satisfied with this kind of life, and I was able to devote more energy to it. He devoted himself to studying and lived up to expectations in the high school entrance examination and was admitted to the County No. 1 Middle School.
Not long after, my mother returned to her hometown and opened a small shop, which was to protect my study and give me a place to go during the weekends. My mother also supported the farm at home, raising pigs and chickens. Nor was he left behind. Unfortunately, the good times did not last long. Without my mother, my father listened to the lies of the so-called fellow villagers and mistakenly joined the MLM organization. He wasted nearly a year and lost all his savings from working. Since then, my father has been unable to recover. In our life, After strong request, I returned home and started farming mode again.
Seeing that my grades were good, my mother repeatedly persuaded my father to go out to work to earn some money for my future college expenses. Unfortunately, my father looked like he would be bitten by a snake once and be afraid of the rope for ten years. After thinking about it, my mother decided. With the courage to break the boat, he spoke to his uncle's family who was living well in the city for the first time, borrowed tens of thousands of dollars, and decided to knock down the mud house at home and build a brick house. This big event that his father never dreamed of greatly inspired him. After building houses for other people for many years, he took the lead in building a house for himself this time. His father’s joy was straightforward and undisguised, and every detail Every detail is taken care of patiently.
The house was built, but the funds were limited, and the decoration was simply whitewashing. It was barely enough to live in. Looking at the empty new home and the "huge sum" owed, my father went out to work again. What is lacking is slowly added little by little. For the first time, my father, who was in his forties, made my mother and I feel his progress. His positive attitude and clear goals without the need for others made my mother very happy.
I was admitted to my ideal university, but the tuition fee of 6,000 yuan still made it difficult for my parents. After receiving the admission notice, I deeply felt for the first time how insignificant everything is in front of reality. , my belief in going to college supported me. I visited several departments for several days in a row, and finally got the student loan approved. Looking at the classmates around me who were busy entertaining, I realized for the first time the gap between people. Looking at their When my parents were busy with their affairs and started to help them with college admissions matters, I was riding a worn-out bicycle to several departments, and received cold looks. At that time, I suddenly developed a resentment towards my parents, especially my father. I resent their incompetence. Although my limbs are sound and my body is healthy, they cannot give me a rich and stable life, allowing me to taste all the flavors of life since I was a child.
In September 2007, college life arrived as promised. Among the girls in the same dormitory, my living expenses were the lowest. In the past few years of college life, I rarely went out to go shopping, did not dare to fall in love, did not wear makeup, and was not greedy. ...All dissatisfaction actually stems from poverty. From the beginning of my sophomore year, I went to the library most often, because I found that I was incompatible with the other roommates in the dormitory, and everything they loved was far away from me. Only in the library could I feel peaceful and at ease.
After graduating from college in three years, I successfully got a good job. After one year of working, I sent home half of my monthly salary on time. I only hoped to improve some of my parents’ lives. I didn’t want to Those poverty-stricken lives continue. As I started working, my brother got married, and my father was relieved to put down all his burdens and end his working life. He returned to his hometown and still lived a life of working in his spare time and farming in his spare time. With the improvement of living standards, Wage wages in rural areas have also improved significantly after 2010, and I am very satisfied with my father's contentment.
And I have also grown from a little girl who liked to cling to my father as a child to a woman who is relatively independent in thought, behavior and economy. Many of my father’s bad habits have become negative teaching materials for me in dating and choosing a spouse. , many girls look forward to their future significant other, and will say they hope to find a man like their father, but I am full of rejection of male figures like my father, and I firmly don’t want to follow in my mother’s footsteps.
After working for two years, I brought my boyfriend to my parents. My boyfriend, who is clean, gentle, polite, and has a stable job, won my mother’s approval. My father’s objections were met in front of two strong women, my mother and me. It seems insignificant. After all, my father has never had a say in the family... Then there is marriage and having children... My life is step-by-step but follows the laws of nature. I forget how long it has been since I sat down and had a heart-to-heart talk with my father.
Since I started working, every time I go home, I buy him a bunch of food and clothing, and I hold everything I think is good in front of him, but what I get in exchange is not his approval, but only his approval. He muttered and scolded me for spending money indiscriminately. No matter how much clothes I buy for him, he will always be wearing the same old clothes. I don’t have the opportunity to wear new clothes or shoes until I visit relatives and friends during the New Year and holidays. I am already troubled by my boring work and life. I don’t have much patience to listen to his nagging. We rarely get together a few times a year, and the time I stay at home is not long, so the father and daughter hardly have the opportunity to talk together like they did when they were children.
For more than half a year after I returned to work after maternity leave, I was exhausted both physically and mentally from my family and work. During that time, I did not go back to my hometown to visit my parents. I only occasionally called my mother to talk about daily life and ask questions. How is your father? Every time my mother asks me whether I want to talk to your dad, I think of my father's "lines" that I can recite fluently. I basically stop talking and go to work. In fact, it's just to avoid it. The embarrassment of having nothing to say on the phone with my father...
I suddenly received the bad news from home that my father had a sudden illness and was sent to the hospital and a critical illness notice was issued. After a moment of panic, he pretended to be calm. I packed up some of my belongings as quickly as possible. At eight o'clock in the evening, my husband and I set off from work and drove four hours to the hospital in my hometown. My mother saw that I seemed to have found a backbone, and after talking to the doctor, she immediately decided to transfer overnight. I went to the prefectural hospital. The diagnosis in the prefectural hospital was more accurate, but it really did not have the conditions and ability to perform surgery. In the face of high medical expenses and tight time, there were almost no other options, so I transferred to the provincial authoritative hospital as quickly as possible... …During the transfer process, I was almost numb. Only the more authoritative higher-level hospital could give me hope. In the end, my hope was shattered. I had no choice but to return to my hometown county hospital. There was nothing I could do to save his life. I could only slightly relieve his pain and make him feel better. He returned to his roots, and in the end, this was the only thing I could do for him...
During the last five days or so that I spent in the hospital, the only thing I could do was to accompany him...
Wave after wave of relatives and friends came to visit after hearing the news. I suppressed the sadness and despair in my heart and forced a smile to talk and laugh with them. I received them thoughtfully, for fear of exposing my flaws in front of my father and making him worry too much. During those days, my father was in pain but also calm. He was so painful that he even broke out in a cold sweat without groaning. The painkillers could give him a short period of peace. When he was awake, I would keep talking to him, trying to distract him. His attention allowed him to relax emotionally, and most of the time, he listened quietly. We tried our best to conceal his illness. In fact, he still had feelings in his heart, but he also acted arrogantly in front of us. Acting strong and pretending not to know.
On the eighth day, my father left us forever and arranged the funeral arrangements. Although I acted very strong in front of my mother, I could not let go for a long time. For more than a year, , I dream about my father almost every night, sometimes it’s some warm scenes from childhood, sometimes it’s clips of accompanying him in the hospital, sometimes it’s some incomprehensible dreams...
When I was 27 years old In 2006, my father was 56 years old. Since then, I have lost my father.
In this father-daughter relationship between me and my father, there is no close affection and tacit understanding of being both a teacher and a friend, nor is there any idle coquettishness, tenderness, and romance. Instead, there is only a continual blood relationship. The deep love and meaning buried in each other's hearts...
We have never said "love you" to each other, but we love each other in our own simple way...