A sky of memories

The sudden shower cooled down the sultry heat of the Northwest summer days. The pungent smell of the soil rushed into my nose. As soon as the rain stopped, I hurried out to the garden to pick some mixed vegetables to cook a bowl of afternoon soup - a simple dish that my father loved when he was alive. The faint sunlight of the late afternoon was still wandering around, flowing down my shoulders. The shimmering rays of sunlight filtered through the leaves, bringing life to the garden of my children's grandmother. Looking out at the garden, I seemed to hear my father's voice and dear laughter somewhere. Suddenly, a whole sky of distant memories rushed back into my mind...

My father has been gone for more than two months. His sudden departure on an early morning in mid-May left a void in my mother's heart and in our hearts, a longing that cannot be put into words...

Dad is considered the big tree of the family, a great spiritual support for Mom and us. In recent years, Mom has suffered a stroke, so all her activities depend on her reluctant friend, a wheelchair. However, Mom is not lonely, because Dad is always by her side - a silent and devoted companion. Even though Dad is seventy-five years old, suffering from many illnesses, especially a weak heart that often makes him tired and short of breath - Dad still does not allow himself to rely on any of his children to take care of Mom.

On weekends, we take the children home to visit their grandparents, watching Dad take care of Mom, worry about every meal, push Mom's wheelchair to see the city, or even Dad pamper Mom by taking her to the hair salon to relax. Dad does everything skillfully like a dedicated nurse in a hospital - gentle, quiet, and full of love.

Understanding the hardships of mother, in the years of retirement, although the children wanted to take their parents to the city where living conditions were better and so that the siblings could be close to and take care of their parents, father refused. Having been a daughter-in-law to my father for 10 years now, I somewhat understand my father's personality. A man of few words, calm, and with a great love for nature and fruit, my father does not like a cramped life, and even less a bustling and hurried life, so my father and mother still live in a level four house facing a small stream with a large garden for him to take care of and in season: "There are also clean vegetables and fruits for my grandchildren to eat". Every time my father slowly expressed his simple but profound advice, I felt like I saw the whole sky of love that he always cherished and preserved to make up for my mother, to save for his children and grandchildren.

My father is not the "million-view" father as the images spread on social networks or the media praise. But to my siblings and I, he will always be the "national father" - a symbol of sacrifice, responsibility and silent love.

My husband once told me that when he was young, because he worked in a remote area, sometimes his father would only come home to visit every two or three months. But every time he came back, he would help his mother with everything: chopping firewood, carrying water to fill jars for her to use gradually, and teaching the children their lessons. Although he was a soldier with professional habits deeply ingrained in his lifestyle and way of thinking, my father did not impose his thoughts on his children. He acted as a guide, orientator, and gave advice like a friend so that his children could freely express their thoughts and desires. He wanted to be a companion on their journey to adulthood. Perhaps, because of his closeness and constant listening, all four of my husband's siblings easily expressed and considered him a great friend, a teacher with a wealth of knowledge and life experience. Sometimes my mother-in-law pretended to be angry with the five of us when she found out that she was the last one to know our secret, because before that my father had heard our children tell us about their school stories...

I really like the poem by poet Tran Dang Khoa when he wrote about his mother: "Mother is a whole sky of longing". But now, I want to borrow that emotional poem to send to my father. Because for my siblings and I, "father is also a whole sky of longing". The house becomes empty without the figure, warmth, and laughter of our father. Losing our father is like losing the whole sky. The sky of love, the sky of warmth and that sky is the peace we want to rely on...

Dad! Even though you are no longer with us, no longer with Mom, you will always be the silent man, the strong spiritual support in my heart.

Pham Thi Thu Nga

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/van-hoa/chao-nhe-yeu-thuong/202507/mot-troi-thuong-nho-0f407c4/