佚名/Anonymous
It has been weeks since I wrote this about my father. I pondered over whether to submit it, and initially decided to keep it to myself. After all, it is what I consider to be very private and personal about someone with whom I was very close. So I expressed my feelings, recorded the event as best as memory allowed, then stashed it away.
Then my sister gained access to the Internet, so I wanted to share this story of our father with her;she and Dad were also quite close. Since she is family, I sent it to her to read. Her response is the reason why this story about my father appears here today.“You have to submit it”，she said.“A lot of people will be able to relate to this story.”
So, thanks again to my wise little sister, a previous decision has been overturned. Here, with hopes that it will touch some hearts, are details of an episode in life with my father.
We never, ever forget, but the memories help keep us going, and the joyous moments shared can recur endlessly. They do with me, and they put a smile on my face each time I recall some of the incredibly happy times I shared with my dad.
Although he didn't realize it, my father was a great teacher. He was a man of little formal education, having quit school in the seventh grade to help feed his siblings in a time when every penny was hard to come by. His working life actually began at a mere eight years of age. Consequently, he gained a lot from life. He had experienced more life lessons than most by the time he died, so while he had little formal training, he remains one of the brightest stars I know.
What my father had accumulated in the school of life, he unknowingly passed down to me-lesson by lesson.
Some months after he and my mother decided to walk separate paths, he needed a place to stay. It was to be temporary, only until he got“back on his feet”.He swallowed a bit of pride in the process;I was thrilled beyond description with the opportunity to help the man who had done so much for me throughout my life.