A Father's Love: Unseen, Unspoken

Happiness is often found in the simplest moments, like the reassuring presence of parents who still have the strength to scold you every day.

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The Early Years

Happiness is having parents who still have the strength to scold me every day.

I always wondered why my father was so strict with his children. Was it because he spent most of his life away from us, lacking the understanding and affection typical of other fathers?

My father was a very strict man, especially with his family, yet surprisingly lenient with outsiders. If I complained to my friends about how tough he was, they would think I was exaggerating.

In his youth, my father served in the army. After the war, he worked as a driver for a construction company in the South. My siblings and I spent our childhood mostly with our mother. Father would come home once or twice a year for Tet or during his leave. During those brief visits, he indulged us with whatever we wanted.

Memories of My Father

I remember how, every time he came home, my father would go to the market and cook elaborate, delicious meals. He used to say that living alone far away made him used to doing everything by himself, and cooking was no big deal.

One time, when I was in fifth grade, my father took me to the provincial market during his leave and bought me a pair of leather shoes. Back then, for rural kids like us, leather shoes were a luxury. I rode on the back of his bicycle, my eyes fixed on those black leather shoes all the way home.

Whenever my father was home, joy lit up my mother's face. She was a woman who spent all year working in the fields and taking care of three children alone. It wasn’t easy for her at all. Without my father, all the big and small tasks fell on her shoulders.

During storms, while other families had men to secure the roofs, my mother, despite her fear, had to climb the ladder to fix the tiles. When Tet arrived, and other families gathered in joy, my mother would sit down to write a letter, sending her love to my father who celebrated Tet far away.

Growing Up with Dad

We grew up, and my father retired. With him at home, our daily life changed almost completely. Used to my mother’s gentleness, we found it hard to adjust to his strictness. It felt uncomfortable at times.

My father would watch over us, lecturing and scolding us. Even at meals, if I left the fatty meat aside, he would comment on how we shouldn’t be picky because many people didn’t have enough to eat.

He hated disorder and noise. He didn’t like children, as they were the “noisiest” of all. We got married and had children one after another. Every time we brought our kids to visit, we were afraid they would annoy him.

I kept analyzing why my father was so strict with us. Was it because he spent most of his life alone and wasn’t around during our childhood, leading to a lack of understanding and affection?

Mother said that he wasn’t this strict when he was younger. It seemed that as he aged, he became more difficult, sometimes unreasonably so. She hoped we would be patient and not argue with him, not let his words upset us.

A Turning Point

Late last year, my father fell. The doctors said he had a mild stroke. Since then, his limbs weakened, and he had to use a cane to move around the house. His health declined, his appetite diminished, and he grew thinner and frailer.

During Tet, when the whole family gathered, my father brought out a box containing six taels of gold. He gave each grandchild one tael, saying that he and my mother were now old and didn’t know how much longer they would live. The gold was a keepsake for the grandchildren. When they got married, we were to give it to them on their behalf.

Mother said that the gold was from his monthly savings. The three of us siblings didn’t know what to say, just looked at each other.

This past summer, I sent my eldest daughter to stay with her grandparents. I told her to behave, not to make noise or be naughty, or else her grandfather would scold her.

My daughter told my mother what I had said. Mother called me, saying, "Let her stay and enjoy her summer. Don’t worry. Your father can barely speak now, let alone scold anyone." Hearing this, I couldn’t hold back my tears. My father had become so frail.

Reflections

Sometimes, in my idle moments, I reminisce about the old days. I remember vividly the time my father took me on his old bicycle to the provincial market just to buy me a pair of shoes.

I remember the first winter in university when I called home saying it was too cold. My father immediately bought a new quilt and sent it to me by coach. I remember when I graduated, he used all his savings to buy me a new motorbike.

On my wedding day, when he had to give me away to a husband 200 kilometers away, he sat quietly at the table while everyone else was celebrating. My brother later told me that on the ride back, my father wiped his tears several times, worried about his daughter marrying so far from home.

It turns out, my father’s strictness didn’t mean he didn’t love us. He just didn’t express it as openly as my mother did.

And I realized, being scolded by your parents isn’t so bad. The most frightening thing is the day when you can no longer hear their scolding.

As I grow older, I understand that happiness is simple. No matter where you go, what you do, whether you are rich or poor, happy or sad, as long as you have a place to return to, that is "Home".

Happiness is having a complete family, with both mother and father still around.

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