My Father’s Love Story 2
As my father’s daughter, my admiration for him is something that will never fade. In my memory, my father and mother were the best couple in the world. I never saw them argue, let alone fight. I felt very fortunate to have such kind and loving parents. They were always my role models in treating the elderly well and educating children, especially my father’s immense influence on me in all aspects. I always believed that my mother was the only woman in my father’s life.
They treated each other with respect throughout their lives. Perhaps my mother never knew about a romantic relationship my father had before their marriage. If not for returning to our hometown, I, as a daughter, would never have known about my father’s love story from over half a century ago.
Before Qingming Festival in 20xx, my second brother called, arranging for me to wait at our third brother’s house before he and our eldest brother arrived. Then, we would go to our hometown together to relocate our grandparents’ and parents’ graves.
Speaking of our hometown, I always feel a deep nostalgia. I remember often visiting my grandfather as a child, the dam of the village reservoir, the lush Huangyang Mountain, and the Yang River where we played and swam.
After my grandfather passed away, I returned to my hometown twice, both painful experiences: once in 20xx when my mother passed away, my third brother took me back, and I saw the graves of my grandparents that had appeared in my dreams; the second time was in 20xx, on the third anniversary of my mother’s death, and six years after my father’s passing, when we took their ashes back to our hometown for burial. Due to land occupation, our third uncle found a more suitable place for their final resting place.
When we arrived at the village, it was already late. Our third uncle had already arranged for the ashes of our grandparents and parents to be placed in five small coffins. Worried that the next day would be too rushed, our uncle slowly drove the coffins to a place near the new cemetery to rest. When we arrived, we brought many offerings to pay our respects.
In the evening, my eldest brother and second brother drove back, and I decided to stay and spend the night in our ancestral home. After dinner, my third brother and several cousins went to keep vigil.
Our third uncle, already in his seventies, began to recount stories of my father’s youth. I knew that our third uncle and father were not blood relatives. He was brought over by our step-grandmother and took our grandfather’s surname. We always treated him as our real uncle and never felt any difference.
I didn’t know much about my father’s past. As a child, I heard bits and pieces from him, learning that he was born in a deep mountain valley, in a well-off family. He started studying at a private school at the age of seven, deeply versed in traditional culture, and had excellent handwriting. In those days, an ordinary family’s child completing elementary school was considered well-educated.
My grandfather was a chivalrous and straightforward man, well-known in the village and friendly with all sorts of people. He got along well with a fur trader who often visited the mountains, and they became friends.
Every time the fur trader came, he saw how diligent and capable my father was, grew fond of him, and discussed with my grandfather about marrying his daughter to my father. The two families exchanged birth dates and made a marriage agreement.
At that time, my father was 14, and the fur trader’s daughter was only seven, my future mother. My grandfather originally intended for my mother to come over as a child bride, but the next year, my grandmother passed away, and the marriage was delayed. Later, my father joined the Eighth Route Army and left with the troops.
I knew my father fought in the war and became an officer, returning to marry my mother at the age of 24. After getting married, my parents and my second uncle went to the city to work. When my eldest brother was born, the new China had been established, and later my second and third brothers were born.
When I was born, it was during the three-year natural disaster. Despite the hardships, I never saw my parents argue. Witnessing their love and support for each other until old age, even in their final moments, has always been my pride. However, on the night before relocating the graves, my third uncle told me an astonishing secret:
In 1944, during the final stage of the Anti-Japanese War, my father, who was well-educated, was responsible for logistics like grain and oil supplies in the army. One day, while carrying out a mission in the village, he was spotted by a local landlord who led the enemy soldiers to capture him. My father tried to escape over a wall but was caught.
The enemy demanded he reveal the village’s secret organization. My father remained fearless and silent, enduring various forms of torture without saying a word. Enraged, the enemy bound him and took him away.
My grandfather, desperate to save him, managed to find out that my father was taken to Huangyang Beach for execution. Despite it being mid-winter, my grandfather hurried to catch up, only to hear gunshots as he reached the mountain pass.
Overwhelmed with despair, he collapsed, losing his hearing. As a child, I noticed my grandfather was deaf but never knew it was because of my father.
My third uncle said that a team of the Eighth Route Army, on a mission, discovered my father being taken by the enemy. They ambushed them halfway to Huangyang Beach. Guided by my father, the team took a shortcut through Huangyang Mountain to join the main force at Zhuolu.
My father fought alongside them, gaining promotions and broadening his horizons, eventually falling in love with a woman who was also a soldier, educated, capable, and responsible for local women’s federation work.
A few years later, my father returned home. By then, the village had undergone land reforms. He intended to seek my grandfather’s consent to annul the previous engagement. My grandfather was overjoyed to see him return alive but became furious upon hearing about the annulment, refusing to speak to him for days.
Understanding my grandfather’s commitment to his promises and the hardships he endured, my father didn’t want to cause him more distress and thus stopped mentioning the annulment. However, the woman from the women’s federation came to our home seeking clarity. My third uncle said she stayed for three days, leaving heartbroken.
My father must have been torn, having never even met my mother but deeply in love with another woman. Yet, bound by traditional values, filial piety, and a sense of responsibility, he couldn’t defy his parents.
Once, while walking on a village path, he encountered the person who had betrayed him years earlier. In a fit of youthful anger, my father drew his gun to chase him, but fortunately, village cadres intervened, preventing a tragic outcome.
An order from his superiors soon arrived, instructing my father to attend training. The so-called training was essentially a re-education session. The two-month training further burdened my already troubled father.
I can’t imagine the state my father was in after losing his love and position. Listening to my third uncle’s story, I could almost feel my father’s sorrow. Yet, he held onto his traditional beliefs, filial piety, and responsibility. For the sake of my grandfather and the family, he cut off his emotional ties, left the army without any benefits, and returned home with a pure and kind heart. He married my mother and devoted his life to her.
Despite his bad temper, my father never lost his temper with a woman. He never laid a finger on my mother and never said a harsh word to me. I never imagined that my father had endured such a painful emotional past. If it weren’t for my third uncle, we would never have known this story.
Not knowing it, I respected my father, and knowing his love story, I respect him even more. My mother was fortunate to have him by her side throughout her life, and it’s a blessing for us as his children.
Thank you for reading! ” Sitestorys “
