My father has small eyes,Wear a pair of glasses,looking more gently,the daddy's hair are not many, he said the intelligent head does not grow hair，daddy does the management, but daddy usually ever not talk bureaucratically to others, therefore his personal connection is specially good,is the same as me.daddy speaks always extremely temperately,never say hit the person,curse at people are also few,calculated scolded people not to be big, although sometimes also can be angry for a longtime,but just only about one day,could no surpass in one day-long.
He usually educate me that the person must to be honestly,friendly to other,and working diligently.This is my father, I love him forever.
Once, when I was a teenager, my father and I were standing in line to buy tickets for the circus. Finally, there was only one family between us and the ticket counter.
This family made a big impression on me. There were eight children, all probably under the age of 12. You could tell they didn't have a lot of money.
Their clothes were not expensive, but they were clean. The children were well-behaved, all of them standing in line, two-by-two behind their parents, holding hands. They were excitedly jabbering about the clowns, elephants, and other acts they would see that night.
One could sense they had never been to the circus before. It promised to be a highlight of their young lives. The father and mother were at the head of the pack, standing proud as could be.
The mother was holding her husband's hand, looking up at him as if to say, You're my knight in shining armor.
He was smiling and basking in pride, looking back at her as if to reply, You got that right.
The ticket lady asked the father how many tickets he wanted. He proudly responded, Please let me buy eight children's tickets and two adult tickets so I can take my family to the circus.
The ticket lady quoted the price. The man's wife let go of his hand, her head dropped, and his lip began to quiver. The father leaned a little closer and asked, How much did you say?
The ticket lady again quoted the price. The man didn't have enough money.
How was he supposed to turn and tell his eight kids that he didnt have enough money to take them to the circus? Seeing what was going on, my dad put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a $20 bill and dropped it on the ground. (We were not wealthy in any sense of the word!)
My father reached down, picked up the bill, tapped the man on the shoulder and said, Excuse me, sir, this fell out of your pocket.
The man knew what was going on. He wasn't begging for a handout but certainly appreciated the help in a desperate, heartbreaking, embarrassing situation. He looked straight into my dad's eyes, took my dad's hand in both of his, squeezed tightly onto the $20 bill, and with his lip quivering and a tear running down his cheek, he replied, Thank you, thank you, sir. This really means a lot to me and my family.
My father and I went back to our car and drove home. We didn't go to the circus that night, but we didn't go without.
Over the years, I never thought of my father as being very emotional, and he never was, at least not in front of me. Even though he was 68 years old and only five-foot-nine, while I was six feet and 260 pounds, he seemed huge to me. I always saw him as being that staunch disciplinarian who rarely cracked a smile. My father never told me he loved me when I was a child, and I never held it against him. I think that all I really wanted was for my dad to be proud of me. In my youth, Mom always showered me with I love yous every day. So I really never thought about not hearing it from my dad. I guess deep down I knew that he loved me, he just never said it. Come to think of it, I dont think I ever told him that I loved him, either. I never really thought about it much until I faced the reality of death.
On November 9th, 1990, I received word that my National Guard unit was being activated for Operation Desert Shield. We would convoy to Fort Ben Harrison, Indiana, and then directly to Saudi Arabia. I had been in the Guard for 10 years and never dreamed that we would be activated for a war, even though I knew it was what we trained for. I went to my father and gave him the news. I could sense he was uneasy about me going. We never discussed it much more, and eight days later I was gone.
I have several close relatives who have been in the military during war time. My father and uncle were in World War II, and two brothers and a sister served in Vietnam. While I was extremely uneasy about leaving my family to serve my country in a war zone, I knew it was what I had to do. I prayed that this would make my father proud of me. My father is very involved in the Veterans of Foreign Wars organization and has always been for a strong military. I was not eligible to join the Veterans of Foreign Wars because I had not been in a war zonea fact that always made me feel like I didnt measure up in my fathers eyes. But now here I was, his youngest son, being shipped off to a foreign land 9,000 miles away, to fight a war in a country we had barely heard of before.
On November 17, 1990, our convoy of military vehicles rolled out of rural Greenville, Michigan. The streets were filled with families and well-wishers to see us off. As we approached the edge of town, I looked out the window of my truck and saw my wife, Kim, my children, and Mom and Dad. They were all waving and crying, except for my father. He just stood there, almost like a stone statue. He looked incredibly old at that moment. I dont know why, he just did.
I was gone for that Thanksgiving and missed our familys dinner. There was always a crowd, with two of my sisters, their husbands and children, plus my wife and our family. It disturbed me greatly that I couldnt be there. A few days after Thanksgiving I was able to call my wife, and she told me something that has made me look at my father in a different way ever since.
My wife knew how my father was about his emotions, and I could hear her voice quaver as she spoke to me. She told me that my father recited his usual Thanksgiving prayer. But this time he added one last sentence. As his voice started to crack and a tear ran down his cheek, he said, Dear Lord, please watch over and guide my son, Rick, with your hand in his time of need as he serves his country, and bring him home to us safely. At that point he burst into tears. I had never seen my father cry, and when I heard this, I couldnt help but start to cry myself. My wife asked me what was wrong. After regaining my composure, I said, I guess my father really does love me.
Eight months later, when I returned home from the war, I ran over and hugged my wife and children in a flurry of tears. When I came to my father, I embraced him and gave him a huge hug. He whispered in my ear, Im very proud of you, Son, and I love you. I looked that man, my dad, straight in the eyes as I held his head between my hands and I said, I love you too, Dad, and we embraced again. And then together, both of us cried.
Ever since that day, my relationship with my father has never been the same. We have had many deep conversations. I learned that hes always been proud of me, and hes not afraid to say I love you anymore. Neither am I. Im just sorry it took 29 years and a war to find it out.
