父親
父親
Remembering My Father
父親幼年有志於學，但家中貧困無資，且處偏遠農村，只能長途跋涉求學，高中更是要晚上步行九個多小時才能到達的聊城三中。經歷了各種艱難困苦和大饑荒，成了我家第一個走出農村的六十年代的大學生。他中學大學都是班幹部，畢業前夕就成為共產黨員。因能力出眾，歷任教導主任、副校長和黨委書記，先後就職於四所高中，皆能奮發圖強，使老學校脫胎換骨，碩果累累，桃李滿縣城。
From an early age, my father longed for an education, but ambition alone could not overcome poverty. Raised in a remote farming village, he walked countless miles in pursuit of learning. During high school, reaching Liaocheng No. 3 High School meant setting out at night and walking for more than nine hours before arriving the next morning. He endured hardship, famine, and every challenge that defined those difficult years, yet never abandoned his dream. In the 1960s, he became the first member of our family to leave the countryside and earn a university education. Throughout middle school and college he served as a student leader, and shortly before graduation he joined the Communist Party. His talent and dedication led him to serve successively as director of academic affairs, vice principal, and Party secretary at four different high schools. Wherever he worked, struggling schools regained new life, and generations of students went on to flourish.
父親與我
父親自小受孔孟文化薰陶，對外撐起一片天，對內家長權威絕對不容挑戰。父親對我寄以厚望，但對我的督促也近乎殘忍。在外面他總是以我為榮，在家裡我卻早早被戴上了求學的緊箍咒。我早熟的世界觀在他的念經之下一次又一次坍塌，直到我上大學離開家鄉，背負著無盡的責任，接受社會無情的洗禮。
My father was deeply shaped by the teachings of Confucius and Mencius. To the outside world he was the pillar of our family; within our home, his authority was unquestioned. He placed enormous hopes on me, and his expectations often felt relentless. Beyond our front door, he spoke of me with unmistakable pride. At home, however, my childhood seemed defined by endless reminders that education came before everything else. Time after time, my youthful understanding of the world collided with his unwavering convictions. Only after I left home for university did I begin to shoulder life’s responsibilities for myself and experience the uncompromising lessons of the wider world.
孔子說：「道不行，乘桴浮於海」。年輕時對自由的渴望就如被上帝呼召，把我推到了大洋彼岸。我慢慢建立了根基，父親卻再也不能看著我長成大樹。年齡漸長，我不再迷信美國的自由，也開始打造自己的牢籠以獲得安全感，忽然就理解了父親對我所做的一切。我和父親的靈魂完全和解，代價卻是天各一方。每一次我回國，他都由衷地快樂。雖然多次提醒我在國內發展也會很好，卻從來沒有強迫我做什麼。
Confucius once wrote, ‘When the Way does not prevail, I shall set out upon the sea on a raft.’ Looking back, my own longing for freedom felt almost like a calling from God, drawing me across the Pacific to begin a new life. Slowly I put down roots of my own, yet my father would never have the chance to watch the tree reach its full height. As the years passed, my understanding of freedom also changed. I no longer saw it simply as the absence of restraint. Like my father before me, I found myself building boundaries that could give life stability and purpose. Only then did I truly understand why he had demanded so much of me. By the time our hearts were completely reconciled, an ocean separated us. Whenever I returned to China, his happiness was unmistakable. He often suggested that I could build a good life back home, but he never once tried to make that decision for me.
最後的日子
父親有高血壓、冠心病和持續性房顫，今年四月感染新冠，後來一直沒有恢復好，呼吸功能受損，大部分時間只能臥床。八月再次感染，開始心力衰竭，呼吸消化功能都隨著惡化。他走前神智清晰，坦然無懼，從容安排後事後溘然長逝。
My father had long lived with hypertension, coronary artery disease, and persistent atrial fibrillation. After contracting COVID-19 in April, he never fully recovered. His breathing became increasingly compromised, and before long he was confined to bed for most of each day. A second infection in August accelerated his decline. Heart failure followed, and both his respiratory and digestive functions gradually deteriorated. Even in those final days, however, his mind remained clear. Calm and unafraid, he thoughtfully arranged the practical matters that lay ahead. Then, with quiet dignity, he departed this life.
永遠的身影
現在父親的房間裡空空蕩蕩，他的隨身衣物都已隨他而去，我每次經過這個房間，腦海裡閃耀著過去的艱難與榮耀，掙扎與和解，沒有任何的懼怕和不適。父親的音容流連不去，宛如昨日。時間定格在他剛過的八十八週歲生日，農曆八月十五前夕，伴隨蕭瑟的秋風，一切進入永恆。
My father’s room now stands quiet and empty. His clothes and personal belongings are gone, taken away with the finality that follows every farewell. Yet whenever I walk past that room, I do not feel fear or sorrow. Instead, my mind fills with memories—of hardship and achievement, of conflict and reconciliation, of a lifetime shared between father and son. His face, his voice, and his presence remain vividly with me, as though only yesterday we had spoken together. Time seems forever suspended just after his eighty-eighth birthday, on the eve of the Mid-Autumn Festival, when the lonely autumn wind carried him gently into eternity.
2024年9月14日 · September 14, 2024
