Seek a touching story of father's love, which should be used as composition material! ! ! I'm so anxious to pull ~ ~! ! ! !

In my mind, my father is kind. Although I have never experienced the instinctive feeling of dependence, happiness, strength and security from my father to my daughter since I was a child, the unforgettable blood relationship between my father and my daughter makes me regret losing my father prematurely for life. Missing my father, looking forward to my father and daydreaming about my father are not only an integral part of my life, but also a headache in my emotional world, especially after entering middle age. A strong yearning for my father often drives me to get to know my father.

Actually, "father" is a stranger in my life. I often think that I may belong to the kind of unfilial daughter who should be condemned by the world when I set foot on the long history of father-daughter love. I can't remember my father's appearance, I don't know his head, I can't recall his voice, and I don't even know where his grave is. In addition, I am a solid atheist. I lost my father at the age of two and left my hometown when I was a little older. For decades, I struggled tenaciously in the vast sea of people with my persistence and yearning, and I kept my filial piety for the elderly around me, but I didn't care about the return of blood and family. In the past 3 years, I never thought of going to the grave for my father who died young, or going to kowtow and kneel at his grave one day, and never thought of burning paper and incense for his father every time in Tomb-Sweeping Day. What my father left me and I can always feel is the scar on the back of my right foot, which is the only memory I have of my father. Whether in my childhood or in my youth, when I was alone in a foreign land far away from my loved ones, I was homesick, struggling and helpless. The only thing I could do was to look at the scar on my right foot in silence. In tears, I could vaguely feel the warmth of my family. In a blur, I really wanted to see my father in heaven.

in my deep memory, there is always a vague but lingering childhood memory, which was a day when I just turned 3 years old. One day at noon, my mother was cooking, and my father sat on the wooden pier in front of the kitchen, dragging his body after a long illness. His eyes were fixed on the burning flame in the kitchen, and his face was yellow and he looked very weak. I took a long stemmed Chinese pipe for my father. My father took the pipe and turned to me with a weak smile. I took the opportunity to lean on my father's chest. I used my small hand, which I couldn't hold the poker, to hold the poker with both hands, and laboriously pulled out a burnt charcoal from the stove, trying to put it on my father's pipe. My father looked at me with his head sideways and a smile, then he held my wrist with his left hand, holding a cigarette bag in his right hand, and bowed his head and smoked "beep, beep". I turned my head curiously to see my father smoking. But as soon as I turned my head, the poker fell to the ground, and my feet suddenly felt unbearable pain. I couldn't help jumping about with my feet on the ground and crying out loud. Father hurriedly got rid of the tobacco pouch, picked me up from the waist with one hand and put it on his legs, and shook and shook my right foot with the other. The red charcoal stuck to my instep, emitting a small cloud of black smoke, emitting a burnt smell. My father grabbed the hot coals and fell to the ground, blowing at my feet with his mouth. After I calmed down, he gently removed those small black particles for me with his hand, and then coated me with potions and wrapped them in cloth with his mother. In tears, I saw my father's thin hands, long fingers and trembling hands. My mother took me heartily, and my father motioned for my mother not to take me away. So, I sat on my father's legs again. My back was against my father's chest, and I felt very warm. I wiped away the remaining tears on my face, leaned against my father and looked at his face with wide eyes. I remember that his face was yellow and thin, his lips were dry and white, and I watched it and fell asleep in a daze. When I woke up, it was already dark, and my father still held me, still holding my scalded feet with his hands. Later, I never had a father in my life. The scar on the back of my right foot that will never disappear is all my memories of my father. When I was young, I would think of my father when I saw scars.

Last summer, overwork caused something wrong with my heart. I have entered middle age, and in the days of struggling with illness, I suddenly have a lot of feelings about life and human feelings. But I still didn't think of my father. To tell the truth, in the more than 1 years since I became a mother, I rarely thought about my father. I have transferred my true feelings, love and trust to my father to other old people without reservation. I have tried to create a space where I live with all my enthusiasm, sincerity and beyond the secular state of mind, and I have no regrets. But when I was lying in bed, listening to the love of my husband who was far away in the north on the phone, and living on tofu and watermelon that my young son could only buy in the heat, my father in heaven thought of me.

that night, my tall father appeared in my dream in a blue cloth with a long hexagram and a three-and-seven-point haircut. His face is still yellow, with sadness on his face, and he stands facing me, just looking at me for a long time without saying a word. In my dream, I always kept a distance from my father. I laughed and danced happily and ran towards my father desperately. I opened my eyes wide and tried to see and remember my father's face. My father left me step by step. I woke up from my dream with excitement and was extremely excited. From then on, in my mind, my father finally had a clear and concrete image. I sat up, turned on the light, felt the scar on my right foot, and suddenly found that the scar disappeared. Suddenly, a serious sense of loss replaced the excitement of seeing my father. I looked at my right foot, looked left and right, looked horizontally and vertically, and finally found the edge of the scar with the light slanting sideways.

Last summer, on my mother's birthday, I dragged my sick body home to celebrate my mother's birthday, and also took the opportunity to get to know my father through my mother. So, I have many stories about my father.

my father's ancestral home is in southern Sichuan, and my ancestors have lived in a fengshuibao town for generations. My father ranks fourth among his eight brothers and sisters, and he is straightforward by nature. Because my grandfather did good and helped the poor, he taught his children well and strictly abided by the style of the elderly, most of the eight children received cultural education, among which the father and Sanbo received the best cultural and moral education. After the death of my grandfather, my father, who is a link between the preceding and the following among my brothers and sisters, took on multiple responsibilities of supporting my mother, supporting my family and supporting my siblings. In my hometown, my father is a prestigious teacher. He has read a lot of poems and books, and is full of classics. He never punishes children in school, and he doesn't talk with people easily except teaching. He is honest and generous, and he does not lose his principles in dealing with people. He shoulders the heavy responsibility of the family, neither suffering from loss nor complaining about others. He is full of peaches and plums, but he never boasts about himself. My father has experienced the pain of countless relatives, where will you go, and suffered the sad process of the whole family from prosperity to decline, from concentration to dispersion, and then to separation of flesh and blood. In the face of many psychological blows of bereavement of parents, brothers and children, he still firmly undertakes the obligation of supporting and resettling two pairs of siblings. After satisfying the hardships of life, he resolutely brought his three nephews back to his home, and together with his mother, he maintained a home with seven children. The heavy burden of life overwhelmed his parents, and with his love and apology for his mother, his father's words became less and less, and his physical strength became more and more exhausted. He often looked at his mother who was red-eyed under the lamp, silent and tearful. He feels that he has made his mother suffer too much, and he suffers from his inability to create happiness for his mother. Mother, on the other hand, is a model of Chinese women who are hard-working, indomitable and sensible. She gave her whole youth and life to her father and children. Shortly after my second birthday, my father left seven children and my mother helplessly. The mother wrapped her head in white cloth and buried her father with her little sister who was eight months pregnant. After that, with a pair of calloused hands, a pair of bound feet, and an indomitable strong belief, we bravely provoked the burden that our father put down, experienced human suffering, and lived a narrow life. We nourished the growth of seven children with our own blood and tears, and tried our best to educate us into strong people with sound personality and academic achievements. My mother also told me: among several children, my father's characteristics are the most obvious in me: dark and yellow skin, tall head, less nonsense, more generous, and even my fingers are like my father's fingers.

although I have never enjoyed a lot of fatherly love, I have enjoyed a deep maternal love. I have been proud of having a great mother for a long time, but I never thought I had an ordinary and deep good father. I feel so comforted by the blood of a pair of excellent parents flowing in my veins. Now, I especially look forward to the night, and I especially want to dream. I look forward to my father coming into my dream again. I really want to say to my father in my dream: Although you left us too early, your life continues on us, your blood flows on us, and your spiritual characteristics shape our souls and dominate our nature, so that we can live a spirit and live a life in this space where light and darkness, nobility and humility are intertwined.

thank you, father. 1. Thinking about your back, I feel tough

2. Touching your hands, I feel hardships

3. Unconsciously, your hair is showing on your temples

4. Silently, you have wrinkles on the corners of your eyes

5. My old father, my favorite person

6. There are ten points of sweetness in the world, and you have only tasted three points

7. Being your children in this life, I haven't done enough

8. I beg you to be my father in the next life.

9. Listen to your words. I have received my confidence.

1. I look at your eyes. I see love

11. There is filial piety in your hand.

12. No matter how hard you are, you will be tired.

13. My old father is my favorite. Pure hand play