My father is 40 years older than me. He had a son in middle age. The year when I was admitted to university and went to study, my family was so happy that we set off two large firecrackers, killed a strong pig, and put them on display. Several banquets were held to entertain fellow villagers, relatives and friends, and a batch of grain wine brewed by a country master that had been stored for two years was opened.

My father attended a normal school for several years and taught Chinese in primary and secondary schools in his hometown for more than 30 years. In July 1981, he retired as a Chinese teacher in a junior high school near his hometown. I had already finished junior high school in his class and went to study in another rural high school. I remember when I was in fourth grade with my father, I had just turned 11 years old. My father and I lived in a small room of less than 9 square meters that was both an office and a bedroom. We sat under a kerosene lamp with my father at night. Read books and study.

My father prepares lessons very seriously and is very devoted. Sometimes I see my father reading the entire classical Chinese text in the tone of an old man teaching students to read classical Chinese. I can't help but laugh after hearing this. I saw my father wearing reading glasses, reading classical Chinese in his mouth, staying up late with a pen dipped in ink and writing densely on several pages in the textbook. The next day, holding a pointer and twisting the small blackboard for writing on the blackboard, I came to In class, sometimes we are given two Chinese classes in a row in the morning. My father was very serious in explaining Chinese. Sometimes in order to explain an ancient Chinese character, he would always recite the contents of "Shuowen Jiezi" to explain its meaning to us, which kept our memories fresh. When my father talks about composition, he always likes to read his classmates' excellent articles to everyone, so that everyone can feel inspired and motivated.

At that time, I really enjoyed reading the essay comments my father wrote for my classmates. Sometimes my father would draw wavy lines with red ink and mark the good paragraphs and beautiful words. My classmates always get encouragement and encouragement after reading their own comments and eyebrow criticism. I also learned a lot of writing skills. My father, who has been teaching for thirty years, has taught students one after another during the summer and winter. The students who graduated from his class all commented that his father taught Chinese well. Everyone, like me, has benefited a lot. Now it has been twelve years since my father left us. Every time I think of the pointer that my father often used and the small blackboard that he used to twist and write on the blackboard when he walked into the classroom, my heart surges and I am filled with emotions... ..

In September 1981, when I was in my first year of high school, my father picked up the wooden box he left for me and walked me to another rural high school to register. At that time, A student whom my father taught in primary school (surnamed Li) taught Chinese in a rural high school, and I was assigned to Teacher Li's class. My father asked his student, my Chinese teacher (Teacher Li), to take care of me.

I was less than 17 years old at that time. I left my father and lived alone in boarding high school. Life in the countryside was very difficult at that time. I carried the pickles and rice on my back every Friday. Walk home in the afternoon and go back to school on Sunday. Since my family's life was relatively tight, my father used 5 yuan from his only monthly salary of 36.5 yuan to give me food allowance every week. I remember that at that time, the people near the school picked up kelp with a little lard residue and sold it to us as a dish. Nutrition is out of the question, and being able to have a full meal is already a luxury. Not to mention eating snacks. Often when you are hungry at night, it is very rare to spend five cents or a meal ticket to buy a piece of fried puff pastry. If you can buy a steamed bun to eat, it is also very extravagant.

Under such difficult conditions, I completed two years of high school. Later, the high school in rural areas was closed. I failed the college entrance examination that year. My father and mother discussed together and asked me to go to the county to join my uncle and With help from my aunt, I continued my studies at the county high school. Now that I think of the scene of repeating my studies back then, I still can’t forget it... I thought: If my father and mother didn’t have the persistence and let me continue to repeat my studies, maybe my life destiny would be rewritten. Maybe I will continue to move forward on the road of working, maybe it is entirely possible to repair the earth in the countryside.

So, I am very grateful to my parents for what I am today. It was their hard work and frugality that trained me, allowing me to embark on the path of studying and becoming a cultural person. Now that both of our parents have left us, we still have no chance to show our filial piety to them. Especially my father, before he left, we as children did not send him to the county hospital for hospitalization. He just passed away and left us forever.

I remember that on the night of July 31, 20XX, when my father passed away, my father, who had already expired, was waiting for my family of three to come home, and then slowly closed his eyes... My father was a simple and honest man throughout his life, teaching and educating people. However, when he became ill in his later years, he did not allow us as children to fulfill our filial piety. Every time we think of the scene of our father's death, we as children can't help but shed sad tears...

Tomorrow is the winter solstice, which makes me miss my father’s serious and kind face even more. Dad, I haven’t forgotten what you told us when we were young: we must remember those who helped us when we were in trouble, never be ungrateful, and never forget history. Although I don’t owe you much in return, what I still feel I owe you is why I didn’t spend more time to accompany you! This emotional regret is irreparable.

Father, you are 86 years old this year. Have you heard my praise for you from the "Kingdom of Heaven"? In fact, this is not praise, but my son's intuitive feeling for you. It is you who gave me life and I have shown my father's great and ordinary mind to the world. You make me proud to be my father------"I beg you to be my father again in the next life"! May my old father rest in peace in heaven!