Dad often said to me: "Child, eat more."

I remember that night, my grandma brought us several kilograms of bacon. We were all very happy, knowing that bacon is everywhere. It is rare to see it in the city. I said to my mother: "Mom, I like it if it is fried harder." My mother quickly agreed, but as for my father, I only remember him watching the news with his brows furrowed, as if there was some national event. That night, my father said to me as usual: "Eat more," and then put a chopstick of meat into my bowl. I looked at his bowl and saw a few pieces of soft-fried cabbage, glistening with oil. I hurriedly said: "Dad, why don't you eat?" He smiled, as if crying, but also seemed to be sneering. After a long time, he said: "Dad is old and can't bite anymore..."

I was shocked. In my memory, my father was strong. He always carried me, laughed and celebrated my birthday. He always ate big chunks of fat meat, bit off the lean meat and stuffed it. In my bowl. Every time my mother sells meat, she buys pork belly because she said: "Your father said that when he asks for meat for you, he feels a sense of happiness!" At that time, I didn't understand what the so-called happiness was, but now I understand , happiness is standing on dad’s shoulders and laughing, happiness is dad biting off the fat from the pork belly and giving me the lean meat, happiness is being reunited every weekend. Dad said he was old, and the word "old" hurt people's hearts so much.

The next night, I cooked for the first time and prepared a table full of vegetables. I saw my father eating the bitter food I cooked with a happy expression. I drank the mineral water by mouth and showed a funny expression. There was an inexplicable pain in my heart and in my throat. Finally, I shouted out loud: "Dad, eat more..."