There is always a brilliant image living in my heart. That is my dear father. Seen through the eyes of many other people, father seems to be a very ordinary person. But he is quite extraordinary in my eyes, I have never lost my wonder at his good-personalities such as diligence, devotion, care, optimism ever since my childhood.
Being a farmer, father works very hard in the fields all the year round. He works from dawn till dusk every day and even till midnight when it is the harvest season. He seldom enjoys leisure with other farmers even if the farm work is not much. He chooses to live a busy life with reluctance to stop for a while.
Father devotes all himself to our family. As we are poor, he always tries his best to support our family and afford the tuitions for my brother and me. For the whole family, for brother and me, he never stops working laboriously in the fields throughout the year. Now he has got a wrinkled face and white hair because of excessive hard work, looking much older and weaker than any other person of his age. In spite of all this, father never complains to us. It is his full devotion that we're living a better life now. It is his full devotion that both my brother and I are able to study at college.
Father shows much care to us children and my mother as well. Whenever there is any delicious food on the table, he just leaves it to us while he takes the simple one himself. If my brother and I fall ill, he will not hesitate a moment to get some medicine for us or take us to see the doctor. My mother suffers a bad disease. Father looks after her very carefully. He never lets mother do any heavy work both at home and in the field. Mother appreciates him m much that she often praises him as a model husband before others.
Father is a person full of optimism. He never complains about our poor life. He is never frustrated by trouble. He often tells us that everything will be all right if we have enough confidence in life. Due to his optimism, we are all confident to face our life and work.
We all think that father is not in the least an ordinary man. He plays an extraordinary role in my family. We can't have anything without him. Now I'm pursuing further studies at college far away from father. I miss him very much. And I often see him in my dreams. His great image is deeply carved in my mind.
Dear Ari,
As you sleep in my arms, I'm amazed at how light you feel. I stare at your tiny body, so fragile that a sudden wind could lift you up into the air. I love this feeling of protecting you and dreaming of all I have in store for you.
I intend to bring you up to be brave and successful in an often difficult society. That's why your mommy and I have named you Ari, which means "lion". It's our hope that you will grow strong and eagerly grasp every opportunity to do well for yourself and others.
Before you came into the world, we had spent months imagining what you'd be like. Would you be a boy or a girl? Would you look like Mommy, Daddy or your elder brothers? Anyway, we would find out soon.
Finally your mother's labor came. And several hours later, we met the first time. I held you high up in the air. I then was able to cut your umbilical cord (脐带) and put you in your mother's arms. She still had enough energy to radiate the love while she pressed you to her face.
And here we are tonight. As I hold you close, you sleep so peacefully. I press my ear to your chest and hear your strength. I am listening to the first beats of a lion's heart. Welcome to the world, Ari.
I've been happily drifting for a lot of years, Dad, and I didn't see you getting older.
I suppose I saw us and our relationship as aging together, rather like a fine wine. Numbers never seemed important. But the oddest thing happened last week. I was at a stop sign and I watched as you turned the corner in your car. It didn't immediately occur to me that it was you because the man driving looked so elderly and fragile behind the wheel of that huge car. It was rather like a slap in the face delivered from out of nowhere. Perhaps I saw your age for the first time that day. Or maybe I saw my own.
Somewhere along the line, the generation gap evaporated. Age separates us now and little else. We agree on most everything, perhaps because we've learned there isn't much worth disagreeing about. However, I would like to mention that fly fishing isn't all you've cracked it up to be, Dad. You can say what you want about wrist action and stance and blah, blah, blah...
Father’s Day
When I was five, my biological father committed suicide. It left me feeling as though I'd done something wrong; that if I had been better somehow, maybe he'd have stayed around. My mother remarried shortly thereafter, and this man was my dad until I was nineteen. I called him Dad and used his name all through school. But, when he and my mother divorced, he just walked away. Once again, I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn't keep a father.
Mother remarried again, and Bob was a wonderful, kind man. I was twenty now and no longer living at home, but I felt a great love and attachment for him. A few years later my mother was diagnosed with cancer and was not given long to live. Shortly before she died, Bob came over to my house alone one day. We talked about a lot of things, and then he told me that he wanted me to know that he'd always be there for me, even after Mother was gone. Then he asked if he could adopt me.
I could hardly believe my ears. Tears streamed down my face. He wanted me - me! This man had no obligation to me, but he was reaching out from his heart, and I accepted. During the adoption proceedings, the judge commented on all the undesirable duties of his profession and then with a tear in his eye, thanked us for brightening his day as he pronounced us father and daughter. I was twenty-five, but I was his little girl.
Three short years later, Bob, too, was diagnosed with cancer and was gone within the year. At first I was hurt and angry at God for taking this father away too. But eventually the love and acceptance that I felt from Dad came through again, and I became, once more, grateful for the years we had.
On Father's Day I always reflect on what I've learned about fatherhood. I've learned that it is not dependent on biology or even on raising a child. Fatherhood is a matter of the heart. Bob's gift from the heart will warm my soul for eternity.
My father has small eyes,Wear a pair of glasses,looking more gently,the daddy's hair are not many, he said "the intelligent head does not grow hair"，daddy does the management, but daddy usually ever not talk bureaucratically to others, therefore his personal connection is specially good,is the same as y speaks always extremely temperately,never say hit the person,curse at people are also few,calculated scolded people not to be big, although sometimes also can be angry for a longtime,but just only about one day,could no surpass in one day-long.
Dear Dad，
Today I was at the shopping mall and I spent a lot of time reading the Father’s Day cards. They all had a special message that in some way or another reflected how I feel about you. Yet as I selected and read, and selected and read again, it occurred to me that not a single card said what I really want to say to you.
You’ll soon be 84 years old, Dad, and you and I will have had 55 Father’s Days together. I haven’t always been with you on Father’s Day nor have I been with you for all of your birthdays. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you. I’ve always been with you in my heart but sometimes life gets in the way.
You know, Dad, there was a time when we were not only separated by the generation gap but completely polarized by it. You stood on one side of the Great Divide and I on the other, father and daughter split apart by age and experience, opinions, hairstyles, cosmetics, clothing, curfews, music, and boys.
The Father-Daughter Duel of ’54 shifted into high gear when you taught me to drive the old Dodge and I decided I would drive the ‘54 Chevy whether you liked it or not. The police officer who escorted me home after you reported the Chevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand father-daughter politics and too old to have much tolerance for a snotty 16 year old. You were so decent about it, Dad, and I think that was probably what made it the worst night of my life.
If someone asks me who affects me most in my life, I will definitely tell him or her that the person should be no one else but my father. As a matter of fact, I have been much affected by father's humor, kindness, enterprise, strong will ever since I was a little girl.
Father is well-known for his humor. He always makes use of his wit and humor to relax tense situation at work. He is m humorous that his colleagues and friends all enjoy staying with him. He also uses humor to create a very happy family atmosphere. My mother tends to chatter over little things. Sometimes she talks angrily without any pause. When this happens, father just listens to her without a word. "Why don't you say a word, man?", mother is more angry at father. At this time father would give a cup of tea to mother, then replies: "Why not have tea first, my dear? Just take your time to enjoy it. I'm always your attentive listener." Hearing these words, mother stops talking with her anger gone at once. Such funny scenes often appear between father and mother which makes our family life happy and interesting.
Dear Dad,
Today is father’s day, for so many years I’ve been seekig a way to express my heartfelt thanks for all you have done for me. Here comes it!
Thank you for always being there sharing my life when I need you most. Whenever I encounter difficulties, I never feel alone and vulnerable, because you will keep me on the right path. I’m blessed to have you.
Thank you for offering me education and teaching me how to be a man. You always inspire me not by words, but by what you have done! Your efforts in the work, your loyalty to your friends, your responsibility for the family and your persistence in the life have already set me good examples in my own life.
Thank you for always appreciating my work, no matter how tiny it is! You have made me realize that it’s capacity not scores that really counts.
Dad, I love you and I will love you forever!Yours beloved.
I have a nice has short curly black hair and big brown is tall and likes telling stories to me,and it's often makes me laugh,of course,he is very funny,when I was sad or angry with my friend ,he always tell jokes and makes me is very simple and always wares a old he isoptimistic,nothing can attract likes drawing picture but it isn't very well,but he is hard and drawing again and is my father,a kind、honest、sanguine person.I love my father.
That rough hands, the land was plowed in Springfield yesterday also kiss one day in March. But water is still there, otherwise, how can I write ah effort in that land, you can see the solid play of strong vitality; in the rough hands, you may feel the warmth of life. I think we are in a pair of rough hands on the child, as inserted in the welcoming song on Huangshan, like raw cactus in the desert, like a long in those three acres of ground corn. This is the father.
Yesterday was Father's Day. I had planned to give my father a present. But I didn't remember it until in the was too late to post a card to him. So I decided to buy something. When I was in the department store. I found it was not easy for me to choose something right for him.
Suddenly I got an idea. I ran home and opened my computer. I made a beautiful card and mailed him through the Internet. then I began to make supper. When father came home, he was very glad to find a big meal on the table. then I asked him to check his e-mail. He was amazed to find a beautiful card in his e-mail-box.
What a wonderful surprise!
When I was a kid, "father" this noun in my heart is so distant, so the diaphragm. Impression, he is always so busy, in a hurry, rarely with children, even unsmiling. Mother said: dad on a business trip, so tired. So, the mother became the backbone of its children, culture, education of us. For our three children couldn't be tamed, beat and scold is little not. Should be is an old saying goes - "dozen is close, scold is love". For the mother, I always have a special attachment. By contrast, my father and I always across a insurmountable gap between. I seldom or was afraid to talk with his father. Each to say something, the mother will act as the mouthpiece of the between us, "said mom, with dad......" .
Meet mother in a bad mood, return to sentence: "himself to go with dad said." I was caught up in the extremely awkward position. Remember the poem wrote: "distance is a kind of beauty", but I think "distance is a kind of indifference, a cruel." I often disappeared in a strange, timid at his father, and thought: "what he relies on the strength, let me afraid of him, he mean He hit me? No, no, he never even scold me." Oh, that of his childhood to me, is really a mystery. Childish mind thought of it like that before: may all the father want to use their own way, in front of the children to keep the unique majesty. Well, maybe, my father is supposed to be like this.
翻译：
小时候，"父亲"这个名词在我心中是那么疏远，那么隔膜。印象中，他总是那么忙忙碌碌，匆匆忙忙，很少与孩子亲近，甚至不苟言笑。母亲解释说:爸爸出差奔波，太累了。于是，母亲成了孩子们生活中的主心骨，培养，教育我们。对于我们三个难以驯服的孩子，打和骂是少不了的。可也正应了那句老话——"打是亲，骂是爱"。对于母亲，我总怀有一种特殊的依恋。相形之下，我与父亲之间总隔着一道难以逾越的鸿沟。我很少或者说简直就不敢与父亲说话。每到非说不可时，母亲就充当我们之间的传声筒:"妈，跟爸爸说……"。
遇到母亲心情不好时，回一句:"自己跟爸说去。"我便陷入了极度尴尬的境地。记得诗中写道:"距离是一种美"，可我觉得"距离是一种淡漠，一种残酷。"我常常远远地用一种陌生，胆怯的目光打量父亲，思量着:"他到底靠什么力量，让我害怕他，他凶吗 他打我吗 不，一点都不，他甚至从来都没骂过我。"哦，这对童年的我来说，真是一个谜。幼稚的心灵这样想过:也许所有的父亲都要用他们各自的方式，在孩子面前保持特有的威严。嗯，也许，父亲就该是这样子。
I am a girl of ten, and I live in a small mountain village far from Taiyuan. The only person that lives with me is my mother, because my father is away for eight years, working in a city.
During the Spring Festival, my father came back home. He looked thin and tired. He gave my mother two thousand yuan, and told her that he would work even harder, earn more money, and then he could take us to the city He stayed at home for only ten are living a poor life now. But what I want most is not money, but my father. I miss him very much!
祝爸爸父亲节快乐!
Dear Dad，
Today I was at the shopping mall and I spent a lot of time reading the Father’s Day cards. They all had a special message that in some way or another reflected how I feel about you. Yet as I selected and read, and selected and read again, it occurred to me that not a single card said what I really want to say to you.
You’ll soon be 84 years old, Dad, and you and I will have had 55 Father’s Days together. I haven’t always been with you on Father’s Day nor have I been with you for all of your birthdays. It wasn’t because I didn’t want to be with you. I’ve always been with you in my heart but sometimes life gets in the way.
You know, Dad, there was a time when we were not only separated by the generation gap but completely polarized by it. You stood on one side of the Great Divide and I on the other, father and daughter split apart by age and experience, opinions, hairstyles, cosmetics, clothing, curfews, music, and boys.
The Father-Daughter Duel of ’54 shifted into high gear when you taught me to drive the old Dodge and I decided I would drive the ‘54 Chevy whether you liked it or not. The police officer who escorted me home after you reported the Chevy stolen late one evening was too young to understand father-daughter politics and too old to have much tolerance for a snotty 16 year old. You were so decent about it, Dad, and I think that was probably what made it the worst night of my life.
When I was five, my biological father committed suicide. It left me feeling as though I'd done something wrong; that if I had been better somehow, maybe he'd have stayed around. My mother remarried shortly thereafter, and this man was my dad until I was nineteen. I called him Dad and used his name all through school. But, when he and my mother divorced, he just walked away. Once again, I wondered what was wrong with me that I couldn't keep a father.
Mother remarried again, and Bob was a wonderful, kind man. I was twenty now and no longer living at home, but I felt a great love and attachment for him. A few years later my mother was diagnosed with cancer and was not given long to live. Shortly before she died, Bob came over to my house alone one day. We talked about a lot of things, and then he told me that he wanted me to know that he'd always be there for me, even after Mother was gone. Then he asked if he could adopt me.
I could hardly believe my ears. Tears streamed down my face. He wanted me - me! This man had no obligation to me, but he was reaching out from his heart, and I accepted. During the adoption proceedings, the judge commented on all the undesirable duties of his profession and then with a tear in his eye, thanked us for brightening his day as he pronounced us father and daughter. I was twenty-five, but I was his little girl.
Three short years later, Bob, too, was diagnosed with cancer and was gone within the year. At first I was hurt and angry at God for taking this father away too. But eventually the love and acceptance that I felt from Dad came through again, and I became, once more, grateful for the years we had.
On Father's Day I always reflect on what I've learned about fatherhood. I've learned that it is not dependent on biology or even on raising a child. Fatherhood is a matter of the heart. Bob's gift from the heart will warm my soul for eternity.
