Autumn Missing Dad

One day at the end of August, my family traveled nearly 100km to return to our hometown - where there is an old house and unforgettable memories. Every year, on the occasion of the National Day holiday on September 2, we return as a habit.

The old house is still the same, but moss has covered the color of time. On the porch is a set of wooden tables and chairs where my sisters and I used to sit and listen to our father tell stories every time we came home. The scent of incense wafted through the air, wafting from the altar where our father's portrait was. I walked into the altar, bowing slightly to greet my father as a habit, but my heart felt choked up. My father's eyes in the photo were still kind and gentle, but now I could no longer run to hug him and ask him to tell me stories like I did when I was a child.

Entering the house, I reached out to turn on the old radio, the song "Mother" by musician Phan Long played sadly. The heartbreaking lyrics: "Dad spent his whole life in the army/The gift he brought back for mom was his gray hair/And the wounds on his chest/Every time the wind changed, they ached..." made me miss my dad so much.

My father - a soldier returned from the battlefield, carrying scars on his body and mental trauma. He lived a simple, quiet but resilient life. He often taught us that living well is also a way to show gratitude to the past and for my father, it means living for his comrades who sacrificed their blood and bones for the independence and freedom of the nation.

When we were young, after every dinner, my sisters and I would gather around to listen to our father tell us stories about the battlefield. The stories were not only about the arduous march, but also about camaraderie, comradeship, the moment of life and death, and the overwhelming feeling when the red flag with the yellow star fluttered on the roof of the Independence Palace...

The stories of the battlefield through my father's memories became vivid, resonant and pervasive. My sisters and I - the innocent children of that time, although not fully understanding the meaning of peace and freedom, the pride silently grew in our hearts, like a seed sown from love for the country.

2 years ago, my father left this world. It was also an autumn day in August. But for me, he never really left. He lives in my memories, in every story, in every lesson he left me. His teachings about gratitude, sacrifice, the value of peace and the advice: "Live for those who have fallen" have followed me throughout my life.

VA

Source: https://baodongnai.com.vn/dong-nai-cuoi-tuan/202508/mua-thu-nho-cha-d9310fe/