Saturday, December 29, 2012
The Love of a Father

A pregnant woman, holding her tears as much as she could, was rushed into the delivery room. Under the freezing air conditioner in the hospital, there stood a kid, shivering as he mumbled “mommy…”. Beside the little kid, there was a skinny old man with a black plastic bag on his hand. Both of them seemed to be wearing shirts that were worn out, not to mention the shoes.

“Don’t cry. Daddy will bring you to the canteen for a drumstick alright?” The old man’s words put me in silence for a moment. He was the kid’s father.

Knowing that he’ll be getting a drumstick, the kid seemed to have forgotten what was bothering him. The father carefully brought the kid to the canteen and took the seats by the corner. As for me, I was sitting quite near to them, so near that I could get a clear view of what they’re having. The kid was enjoying his drumstick as the old man pulls a bread out of the plastic bag.

It looked like the bread came with black sesame jam on it, or at least, what I hoped for it to be. The old man scowled from his first bite. Nevertheless, looking at his child enjoying his meal, the old man smiled as he continued to finish the expired bread. I could find no other word to describe the scene but “love”. My eyes were drowned in tears.

This reminded me of my grandfather. He was a strict and serious person. I used to have those strips of red marks on my skin. I was always afraid of him because he hardly smiles. It was till I grew up that I found out about grandfather’s way of loving me. He never expressed it with words, but he was always there to love and care about me. Sometimes, he’d keep on bugging grandmother just to ask about me. Then sometimes, he would put my favourite food in the fridge, or prepare my favourite soft-boiled egg as breakfast. I could still remember that he used to peek at me when I sleep. He would bring out the cane when I come home late, he’d comment on the way I dress myself, but I could never forget his love. It has no difference with that of my grandmother, as true and sincere as hers.

The love of a father is always considered to be strict but sincere out of the norm of the Eastern countries. But it was never lesser than the love of a mother. Mr. Ikeda is always overseas for the mission of kosen-rufu. He had little time to see his own children, but it never stopped him from loving them. Whenever he goes, he will always send them a postcard to express his love to them.

The love of Mr. Toda towards Mr. Ikeda was strict as well, but behind his serious action, there laid his trust and expectation towards Mr. Ikeda. “Daisaku, what books have you read today?” Mr. Toda often ask about Mr. Ikeda’s progress to check whether he had given his effort into his studies. Mr. Ikeda had never slowed down his pace. Despite his health condition, he continuously strived for the members’ happiness.

Perhaps you’re having a strict and serious father as well, a father that you do not dare to communicate with. Nevertheless, the love of your father will always be as precious as the love of your mother. I could still reminisce of holding my grandfather’s hand as we walked through the road. It makes me warm. Perhaps you could use your own ways to express your love towards your father. It could be an act of giving a card, a cup of water or even a hug. I believe your actions will delight your father. Gratitude is the best way to repay their love.



Shared by,
Green.

Translated by,
Happy.

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Written at 11:22 PM by Paper Pilot.