This is an emotional story about my father.
If my father were still alive, I might have buried it in my heart forever. But my father is no longer alive - of course, my bringing it to light now doesn't mean any great disrespect to my father, at least I think so myself. Because, deep in my heart, I do respect my father for this emotion, and as I get older, I can even understand it very well.
I don't know how I feel about telling it, but it's not easy.
My mother was not my father's original wife. More than 20 years ago, my father's ex-wife gave birth to a daughter, my sister, in her second child, leaving behind a two-year-old son and a newborn daughter. At that time, my father was a township cadre, so the two children were left in the hands of my grandmother and his mother. The family also held up, but a few years later, the grandmother also died, and now the family is really not like home.
Later on, I met my mother - I still wonder how much of my father's marriage to my mother was out of love, even though they have always been more in love since then. So, more than 20 years ago, I also came to this world in a daze.
As far as I can remember, the atmosphere at home was not very pleasant when I was very young. First of all, because China's family planning was very tight at that time, so my birth almost smashed my father's rice bowl. My father seemed to blame me for this, rarely smiling at me, and occasionally hugging me made me scream in fear. But I seemed to fight for my life, though I probably didn't know such a word at the time. Not only did I look more and more like my father in a pleasing way, but I was also a bit smart, cheerful, lively and articulate, which left my two older siblings in the dust. So, slowly, my father began to pay attention to and like me. When the mood is good, he will also use his skimpy Mandarin to teach me the poetry of Mao Zedong, to see that I learned the look, my father is also excited, as if very accomplished look.
Later, I went to junior high school, because my home is far from the school, there is a semester to live in my father's unit, and also know in that responsible for the work of the planning of the Aunt Chen. The fact is, I don't think it's accurate to define her in this way - because in my eyes at the time, Auntie Chen was practically omnipotent. Although I was told that she was a gynecologist by birth, but because of her preference for research, she was able to miraculously recover from some of the other painless illnesses.
She and my mother are only about the same age, and I can't say that she's pretty, but she's also quite delicate and durable, and she has the charm of a middle-aged woman. The first thing I'd like to mention is that she has a pair of clean hands that are unique to doctors, plus she's smiling all day long, which makes her feel a kind of indescribable comfort. Therefore, my father, a man who has experienced the vicissitudes of most of his life, has a good feeling about her, simply a bit of natural and natural flavor. Saying this kind of thing, you may think that I am particularly unfilial to my own biological mother. Yes, I have felt guilty about that, but I really don't hate her and even kind of like being close to her. And at the same time, I was even convinced that my father's radiant presence in the flat had nothing to do with her. At that time, my father's dormitory was on the third floor, and Auntie Chen's workplace was on the opposite side of the street, although separated by a road, but also far away from each other. The first time I saw this was when I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley, and the second time I was a student at the University of California, Berkeley. And Aunt Chen is not sure whether it is because I take care of her business or something else, especially kind to me, every time I urge me to take medication on time, pay attention to avoiding food and so on. My father is a loving man, and he always accompanied me when I was on the drip, chatting with Auntie Chen. Aunt Chen's voice was very nice, and when she spoke, it was as fine as spring water. Every time, I would have a strange thought that Auntie Chen and my father were like a family, because they spoke with a serenity and harmony that my mother could not match. Mother was loud and naturally spoke with far less gentleness than this. But at the same time, my little heart is very uneasy for my own such unrealistic ideas, feel that I betrayed my mother, a very guilty feeling. But I was also quite sensible, and did not intend to act as a fuse for the family war, besides, they were just chatting. So I chose to remain silent - including about what I found out later.
Speaking of discoveries, it is impossible not to mention my father's drawer. In fact, as far as its function is concerned, perhaps it is more accurate to call the desk, my father did not like to clean up, this is almost the same as all men in the world. His slightly important many things, are included in that drawer, including the bankbook, including the letter.
How can I describe what happened when I saw it? In retrospect, the exact word is "shocked". I don't know if my father ever wrote to my mother in his early years, but he is now in his forties and still retains this primitive romance? The letter was not long, only two pages, the words were very cursive and free, so at that time I did not see its content clearly, but only vaguely knew that it was to Aunt Chen. The letter paper was not so fresh, obviously it had been written for some time. I was so flustered that I even regretted discovering it and didn't want to have this secret. But I knew it after all. How is it that all men in the world are like this? Inside, however, I could not help but feel a slight disdain for my father. Question him? Destroy it? As a daughter, neither seemed right. So one day I foolishly told him that there seemed to be a letter in the drawer. Whose was it? My father looked puzzled - could he not remember? Since it was inconvenient to tell him, I did so. But some time later, I suddenly realized that the letter was gone.
Since then, I have not been able to find anything.
Since then, I have not been able to find anything. My father and Auntie Chen have not been able to play the music of joy or sadness.
Later, my mom often went to my dad's office, and she was quite fond of Auntie Chen! The first thing I'd like to say is that I'm not sure how much I'm going to be able to get away with this. The first thing I can say about this is that it's a good thing that I'm not a big fan of this. The first thing I did was to ask my mother to give me a letter from her, and she said, "I don't know if I can do that, but I think I can.
Until my father was seriously ill and hospitalized, Auntie Chen came home to visit my father twice. Once, I saw her sitting on the side of the hospital bed, comforting her father, and when she left, her eyes were filled with tears.
After Dad left, once met us, she said a sentence: "It's a pity ......" words did not finish, throat choked.
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