Chapter 31 father photo

I can't remember my father at all in real life, he died of illness when I was five years old.It stands to reason that he should have memories of things around the age of five.For this reason, I am often ashamed and resentful that I remember things too late and fail to preserve the most worthy things in memory. Fortunately, in an old photo album of my mother, there were several photos of my father. He was handsome and personable, wearing a pair of enamel-rimmed glasses, with serene eyes, a slight smile, and a neat suit and tie.I heard from my mother that my father worked in a bank. Before liberation, it was a decent job.When I saw the photos, I read a book, became sensible, and could understand the hardship and hard work of my mother raising us four brothers and sisters alone.But my mother is optimistic and never frowns, only occasionally looking through the photo album, watching my father squatting next to a white baby carriage with a canopy and smiling. sigh.My father passed away too early and too young, so I don't know what kind of atmosphere and situation a family life with a father is like.Will at least be richer?Because the few photos of my father were all taken on the balcony, it was a bungalow with steel windows, and after my father died, my mother started to work, with a meager income, so we could only live in a simple small board room.This obvious comparison, in my childhood impression, was the most regrettable thing about losing my father.

But when it came to the "Cultural Revolution", I saw that many of my classmates' fathers became "ghosts and snake spirits", constantly being criticized and fought, and some of them were ransacked. I felt a strange luck in my heart: I didn't Father, our family is safe and sound.I also imagined that if my father, who wore a suit and tie before liberation, was still alive today, people would always have to find out some problems.Therefore, the hidden regret and grievance of living in a small board room is buried in my heart, but it has become the safest guarantee. No matter how magnificent the storm of the "Great Revolution" is, it will not involve my small board room, and I can be confident to join the Red Guards.The enthusiasm for joining the "revolution" for the first time made us all devout and crazy.Sweeping the "four olds", this action has swept from the society to the family, of course I am not far behind, but I can't see anything belonging to the "four olds" in our humble small board house, I thought about it, and suddenly thought Pictures of my father in a suit and tie in my mother's album—that's bourgeois.I rushed home desperately, and explained the truth to my mother plausibly. Regardless of whether my mother agreed or not, I resolutely tore up the few photos of my father.The mother just kept silent, with deep sadness and regret in her eyes.At that time, I didn't understand my mother, and I was only excited because I finally got rid of the "four olds" and did something more "revolutionary".From then on, I never saw my mother flipping through that photo album; from then on, I went to the Great Northern Wilderness.After many years, I came home from visiting relatives in the Great Northern Wilderness. One day, when my mother tidied up the closet and took out the photo album, she lightly scolded me: You really shouldn’t tear up your father’s photo, it’s gone now...

I was holding the photo album, and my hands were shaking, shaking badly.When I arrived in the Great Northern Wilderness, I seemed to have forgotten what I had done.However, it was only when I went to the Great Northern Wilderness thousands of miles away and stayed away from my mother that it was the first time I truly experienced the depth of maternal love, the kindness of home and the warmth in the small board room. Mother pulled us up one by one and sent us away one by one In the end, she was left alone in the small board room. If her father was there, she would be much better off!However, even the photos of my father disappeared... The holidays passed by in a flash, and I was about to leave my mother and leave the house. My heart was filled with a heavy attachment to my mother.Back then, my ambition of volunteering to go to the frontier to "make a revolution" completely collapsed at some point; back then, amidst the sound of gongs and drums, we really set off from Shanghai singing war songs.A few years later, I was about to leave again. Although my mother was still pretending to be nonchalant while standing on the platform, I couldn't control myself, hugged my mother and cried loudly.Only then did my mother weep and shook me.I dare not look up at her, I just want to say a word of apology to her, and I also want to tell her that when my youthful feelings are sprouting love, I have a strong desire in my heart: in her love Here, it is best to have a father-like love...