Yesterday was Father's Day, which spread from abroad to China and gradually became popular. There is a famous saying in Russia: Thanks to parents, water can't be flooded and fire can't be extinguished. Strange to say, we have International Women's Day and Mother's Day every year, and there is only one Father's Day, so we can be regarded as the father who comforts the world.

Some people divide China's father into three stages: the first stage is tradition. Mainly because most fathers are ordinary farmers. They are the pillars of the family, with rough hands and unsmiling all day long. They are simple and frugal, adhere to the principle of filial piety under the stick, and strictly require their children to take the road designed for them. The second stage is contradiction. Because of the strict discipline when I was a child, I gave my children a relatively relaxed environment, and at the same time I was more traditional. I hope my children will be obedient. They think reading is the most useful, so they are very strict about learning; The third stage is democracy. This is the latest generation of fathers, usually with a good educational background, and every father is in the prime of life. They attach importance to their appearance, treat their children like friends and give them maximum freedom. Encourage children to have their own ideas. Strictly speaking, my father belongs to the combination of the first stage and the second stage, and my pure feelings are strict and expected of me.

Whenever I think of my father, something always gets stuck in my throat. Although I am over 50 years old this year, because of my childhood misfortune, I am physically weak and have a vague concept of maternal love and family. Due to the limitation of environment, he didn't get a good education, and the burden of family fell on his thin shoulders early. Father belongs to the kind of person who is not good at words and expression. He always bears difficulties silently, and he always ignores those arrogant and unreasonable people. My father doesn't have many hobbies. Smoking, drinking tea and drinking are all inherited from my grandfather's habits (my mother has been arguing with him for this reason, hoping that he can quit, but fortunately I didn't inherit it), and listening to local operas is also his greatest hobby. I remember when I was a child, my father just bought a newly popular tape recorder, and then bought several tapes of local operas. Under the noise of high-power speakers, neighbors surrounded the room, and my father entertained them to eat and drink while singing happily with them.

I can feel that my father actually has his own grand ideals and pursuits, but because of the heavy responsibility of the family, he has to give up his personal ideals. What makes him happy is that my study has never bothered him since I was a child. He only needs to prepare tuition for me, and my academic performance has always been his pride, especially when people of his age talk about his children's studies and what he is doing now, he always smiles brightly, as if "my growth has nothing to do with him." Although my father didn't pave the way for the growth of children like those celebrities, he didn't have the ability. He guided me to set up my own ideal with his simple outlook on life. He didn't do anything earth-shattering for me, but it didn't affect my respect for my father at all. I always thought that my father was the mountain in my heart, a heavy and insurmountable mountain.

As I go to school and get farther and farther away from home, my current job is thousands of miles away from home, and there are fewer and fewer opportunities to chat with my father. My father appears more and more in my dreams now, and I hear my father's concern for me through frequent phone calls. Whenever this time, I don't make any noise. Under my father's greetings and repeated exhortations on the phone, I am still a child who has not grown up.

Last year, I had the opportunity to go back to my hometown to pick them up and live. I saw that my father had obviously aged a lot, and under his simple clothes were a pair of kind and amiable eyes. After coming back, a few days later, my thoughts still stayed in his eyes. Every time I think of that scene, my heart always feels in my palm, and I don't know where to put it. My father is old and I am an adult. I've been thinking about how to arrange my father's next life so that he can make up for what he lost.