Picture/Chen Jiahui
Text/Lu Zhengda
When I went back for a consultation that day, Dr. Tian Ya suddenly said pointedly, “You used to be very sick, your face was very dark, and you also quarreled with others.”
I was shocked. It happened only once in more than ten years, but Dr. Tian remembered it. Ten years ago, I was still picking up and dropping off my son, and I planned to rush to the institution after each consultation. But the doctor in the clinic was delayed that time, and there was no sign-off for nearly 40 minutes. I went over to knock on the door in a hurry, but what happened in a flash became the impression of a doctor.
The son I picked up and dropped off in those years not only exists in my mind, but is also scattered in the memories of bystanders along the way. We walked to the intersection of Guangfu South Road and stopped to buy oyster omelette. Middle-aged Obasan neatly cracked an egg and fried oysters, and gave it to his son who was waiting obediently. After not going there for 10 years, a man passed by the stall. The wrinkled Obasan saw me and asked, “Why didn’t your son come with you?” I said, “He has graduated many years ago and doesn’t follow me anymore.” “The walk of a father and his son on that road is a common memory for many people. Sometimes, it can also be said to be a kind of comfort. I am not the only one who remembers this dad.
However, the image of a father, a memory of life, is far beyond my imagination. In the eyes of the uninformed Dr. Tian, this “dad” is just an angry patient. Along the way, there are still many images belonging to this father and son. I can no longer ask or tell them one by one.
I entered the one-person-one-story theater. I stood on the stage, the light circle hit me, and I began to tell my experience of being a father. Then, the actors and musicians immediately acted out our story based on what I told them. I was invited to sit back and be an audience member, watching others act out my story. Should I shed tears or applaud?
The host asked: “What do you mean, dad?” Thinking of Thich Nhat Hanh saying, burning a piece of paper, “You see the ashes and you see the smoke rising. The smoke is the continuation of the paper, and the paper becomes The clouds in the sky may turn into a drop of rain falling on your forehead tomorrow, so you meet it again.”
Dad is ashes, a cloud, a drop of rain falling on his son’s head, and then, dad is also a son.
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Source: China