I want to write more words about my father this Father's Day in memory of my father who died young.
My father was born in a poor Hakka family in Lingnan Mountain area. Because the family was too poor, it was given to the childless matriarch in the neighboring village just a few days after birth. It is also said that he was sold by his alcoholic biological father to the patriarch's house as a son, and the past has long been impossible to find out.
My grandmother, to be exact, is my father's foster mother. From the moment she held her newborn father in her arms, she regarded this young child as her own flesh and blood. Throughout her life, she has always stressed that her father should have been her son, but she accidentally gave birth to the wrong child. She really did her best, and spent her whole life desperately caring and caring for this "wrong baby" son.
No one knows his father's real birthday. The date recorded in the file is the day when grandma first hugged him.
Father was born smart, and he showed his talent beyond his peers at an early age. He is the youngest but the best student in primary school. Father's grades are so good that the headmaster directly exempted his tuition and asked him to give classes to junior students. In primary school, as a member of the underground party in China, the Chinese teacher spread progressive ideas and told revolutionary truth to his young father, and developed him into a peripheral member of the underground party.
When he graduated from primary school, grandpa asked his father to go to Nanyang to learn rattan art and earn money to make a living, just like most young people in his hometown. My father, who has accepted the progressive thought, has a firm attitude. My grandmother mediates and ensures that my father does not need to pay a penny at home for his future studies. Grandpa reluctantly agreed to continue his studies.
In order to help my father raise the cost of studying, grandma lights a small oil lamp every day after finishing all the work at home, shakes the ancient spinning wheel to spin and weave, saves it and sells it in the market, and then buys the cheapest paper and pen for her father. A thin bamboo branch with three copper tips tied to it is my father's most commonly used pen. The paper cut from the newspaper printed by the printing factory is the most commonly used paper by my father.
My father entered the county seat with excellent results, with the absolute advantage of always being the first in the whole school. He won a full scholarship all the way and graduated from the county seat smoothly. Grandma wants to make a new suit for her excellent son and change him into underwear that has long been short, but his father asks her to buy him a fountain pen with the money for new clothes. A rural teenager who wore ill-fitting coarse clothes finally got his first real pen.
When my father mentioned this pen, his eyes sparkled with joy. Even though he later owned many different brands of pens, including the popular American Parker pen, he was never so excited.
My father, a teenager who played grapefruit as a football on the ridge, was successfully admitted to Sun Yat-sen University and became a young college student at that time with his own efforts and excellent results. In my father's photo album, there is a photo of that year. The young father is in the middle, surrounded by obviously tall and old young people. I thought it was a photo of my father and teacher, but I didn't expect it to be full of his classmates.
The father who was admitted to Sun Yat-sen University had another identity-at that time, he was already an underground party member.
Father is like a duck to water in college. In the face of professors who are mostly returned from abroad, full of English teaching and blackboard writing, this father who came out of the village is still among the best in his class. He studies very well, and students from rich families often ask for paid homework. My fine-eyed father took an active part in progressive group activities, and once played a female role in progressive drama performances when there were not enough actresses.
At that time, the underground party organization was devastated and my father was ordered to evacuate. He joined the Dongjiang column as a college student, went up the mountain to fight guerrilla warfare, and directly participated in the struggle against the Japanese invaders.
It was the deepest and darkest period in War of Resistance against Japanese Aggression. Guerrillas on the mountain are short of clothes and food, and often have no food and clothes to wear. Father said that in the most difficult time, it is common to go without food all day, and it is normal to be ragged and unkempt. Mosquitoes biting insects is a trivial matter. Some comrades are rotten but incurable, tortured and miserable.
After the Anti-Japanese War, according to the results of Chongqing negotiations, officers and men of Dongjiang column will take American warships to Shandong liberated areas. When a group of sallow, emaciated, ragged, disheveled and beggar-like people appeared on the deck of an American warship, they were shocked. They never imagined that the Dongjiang column, which was a headache for the Japanese invaders in Lingnan but could not be contained, turned out to be like this.
The U.S. military did not allow their fathers to board the plane with weapons and forced each of them to clean up their personal hygiene when they were vaccinated. In order to prevent American troops from setting traps, the soldiers of Dongjiang column fought side by side with American soldiers, ensuring the integrity and basic combat effectiveness of the group.
The ship sailed into the vast sea, which coincided with the first of July. On July 1, my father and his comrades-in-arms held a celebration on the deck of an American warship under the gaze of American sailors. My father heard the conversation of American soldiers with his own eyes. I don't understand what these people who are shaped like skeletons and can be blown away by a gust of wind are excited about.
Warships sailed into Bohai Bay, Yantai was a liberated area and Qingdao was a Kuomintang area. The soldiers of Dongjiang column have been wandering at sea for many days, and they can't contact the organization at all. I don't know if the Americans will keep the agreement and really send them to the liberated areas. When going to the liberated areas, the soldiers of Dongjiang column are popular anti-Japanese heroes; when going to the Kuomintang-controlled areas, they will directly become prisoners.
Many years later, I will never forget the way my father's fingers lightly crossed the map and the dignified tone in his voice.
Father and his comrades-in-arms were incorporated into the field army and went south with the troops to participate in the famous Huaihai Campaign. My father easily told me that the flickering candles in the fortifications were destroyed by gunfire the night before the general attack, and it is now in complete darkness. The correspondent knocked over the dish basin on the ground with one foot. In order not to let the leaders have no food, the little correspondent picked up the dishes on the mud in the dark and put them back in the dish basin. It was not until everyone took a bite of sand that the little correspondent admitted his mistake.
That scene makes people laugh at it.
When my father went to the south, he got a horse with a quirk. The horse must run to the front of the line. When you get there, you will automatically slow down and no other horses will be allowed to pass. The most speechless thing is that it will run sideways and try to stop other horses. This horse accompanied his father from Shandong to Jiangnan. In the mountains at the junction of Jiangxi and Guangdong, he fell into the abyss and died unfortunately. When I was a child, there was always a long canvas bag called Ma Qianzi and two iron file boxes with strange shapes at home. These are all things that horses used to carry. Speaking of this silent comrade-in-arms, I clearly saw the tears in my father's eyes.
The army marched all the way to Guangdong, and my father was in charge of training young cadres in Guangzhou. Young veteran cadres are high-spirited and full of ambition. He gave up the opportunity to transfer to the Central Party School and recommended other comrades to work in Beijing. After marrying his mother, my father not only gave up the opportunity to work in Beijing again, but also mobilized his mother who had returned to work in the General Logistics Department after graduating from college to join the establishment of the new China Infantry School.
My father's life, as described by the elegiac couplet at his memorial service, was "aboveboard, selfless and fearless, conscientious and fighting endlessly". The medal on my father's chest is a testimony to his glorious history. He never shows off himself, but he makes me admire him from the heart.
Our brothers and sisters are all from military camps, but the lingering atmosphere of books is never lacking at home. Several big bookcases in my father's study are full of books, which used to be my favorite place to stop when I was a child.
My father is a good teacher in my study and life. I clearly remember my father standing in front of a big map posted on the wall at home, with tears in his eyes and trembling voice telling about his past.
My father once helped me make several changes in my composition, which made the whole composition extraordinary. My father occasionally met me at home to take part in a poetry reading contest and came to give me some suggestions on tone and emotional expression. I won the first prize directly in the competition. I remember my father once taught me some uncommon idioms with strong accent. Four-character four-character pronunciation is clear, which is a very standard mandarin pronunciation, which surprised me.
I am the only girl among my brothers. When I was a child, I always invited two aunts at home. However, my father never doted and spoiled me. I have been asked to help my aunt with simple housework since I was a child, and I personally led our children to make briquettes on holidays. Father used to be unable to shake hands directly because his hands were covered with black coal ash, so his old comrades who came to visit him on holidays laughed at him for "working hard at home in Gao Qian". Most of my basic life skills come from my father's words and deeds.
At that time, I was with my old comrades-in-arms and heard everyone's praise for me. My father, who has always been modest and prudent, proudly said, "I am proud of my daughter." This sentence I overheard has been deeply hidden in my memory, and it is also a powerful driving force for me to never give up my efforts easily. I hope I will always be the pride of my father!
When I got the college admission notice and went to study thousands of miles away, my father shut himself in his room and spent the whole day packing all the daily necessities and clothes I might need in a big box. This heavy box is full of father's love.
No matter what kind of hardships and blows are encountered in life and work, my father always grits his teeth silently and carries it hard alone. When there was a new dawn in life and everything went smoothly, my father, who was only 56 years old, broke down from overwork and died young!
I never imagined that when I was in college, my father waved goodbye at the train station platform, which turned out to be the last memory between our father and daughter! Where will you go? It's heartbreaking, and the wounds of bereavement can't heal for a long time.
For many years, "father" has been an unforgettable topic, and you can't help but burst into tears every time you mention it. I thought that this time I could write this article in memory of my father calmly and commemorate Father's Day when my father was away, but I still couldn't control my tears and even cried several times.
I still can't help screaming in tears: Dad, I miss you!