After Mom died, I began visiting Dad every morning before I went to work. He was frail and moved slowly, but he always had a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice on the kitchen table for me, along with an unsigned note reading, "Drink your juice." Such a gesture, I knew, was as far as Dad had ever been able to go in expressing his love. In fact, I remember, as a kid I had questioned Mom "Why doesn't Dad love me?" Mom frowned, "Who said he doesn't love you?" "Well, he never tells me," I complained. "He never tells me either," she said, smiling. "But look how hard he works to take care of us, to buy us food and clothes, and to pay for this house. That's how your father tells us he loves us." Then Mom held me by the shoulders and asked, "Do you understand?"
媽媽去世後,我開始每天上班之前去看看爸爸.他身體虛弱,動作遲緩,但他總是親手為我榨好一杯橙汁放在餐桌上,旁邊放一張沒有署名的便條,寫著："把橙汁喝了."我知道,這是他向我表達愛的一種特殊方式.實際上,我仍然清楚地記得,小時候我曾問過媽媽："為什麼爸爸不喜歡我?"媽媽會皺起眉頭,反問道："誰說他不喜歡你?""哦,可他從來沒有告訴過我."我抱怨道."他也從沒告訴過我,"她面帶微笑地說,"但是,你看他拼命地工作賺錢,養活我們,要供我們吃穿,還要繳房款,這些行動都告訴我們,他是愛我們的."然後,媽媽摟著我的肩膀說："你明白了嗎?"
Photographer: Negative Space, link: Pexels
I nodded slowly. I understood in my head, but not in my heart. I still wanted my father to put his arms around me and tell me he loved me. Dad owned and operated a small scrap metal business, and after school I often hung around while he worked. I always hoped he'd ask me to help and then praise me for what I did. He never asked. His tasks were too dangerous for a young boy to attempt, and Mom was already worried enough that he'd hurt himself. Dad hand fed scrap steel into a device that chopped it as cleanly as a butcher chops a rack of ribs. The machine looked like a giant pair of scissors, with blades thicker than my father's body. If he didn't feed those terrifying blades just right, he risked serious injury.
我微微地點點頭.我明白,但並不理解.我仍然渴望爸爸抱著我,親口對我說他愛我.爸爸自己經營一家小型的廢金屬處理廠.放學後,我就圍在他身邊玩.他工作時,我總希望他能讓我幫什麼忙,然後誇我幹得好.可他從不叫我.他的工作對一個小男孩來講太危險了,媽媽為爸爸已經夠擔心的了.爸爸把廢金屬塞進一個機器裡,這個機器就像屠夫剁骨頭一樣,順利地切割著金屬.它酷似一把巨大的剪刀,刀片比爸爸的身體還要厚.所以用這樣的機器工作是極其危險的,稍有不慎便會嚴重受傷,其後果不堪設想.
"Why don't you hire someone to do that for you?" Mom asked Dad one night as she bent over him and rubbed his aching shoulders with a strong smelling liniment. "Why don't you hire a cook?" Dad asked, giving her one of his rare smiles. Mom straightened and put her hands on her hips. "What's the matter, Ike? Don't you like my cooking?" "Sure I like your cooking. But if I could afford a helper, then you could afford a cook!" Dad laughed, and for the first time I realized that my father had a sense of humor. The chopping machine wasn't the only hazard in his business. He had an acetylene torch for cutting thick steel plates and beams. To my ears the torch hissed louder than a steam locomotive, and when he used it to cut through steel, it blew off thousands of tiny pieces of molten metal that swarmed around him like angry fireflies.
"你為什麼不僱人替你幹這個活兒呢?"一天晚上,媽媽給爸爸按摩痠疼的肩膀,並塗抹一種氣味濃烈的搽劑時問爸爸."那你為什麼不僱個廚師替你做飯呢?"爸爸反問道,並對她露出了少有的微笑.媽媽直起身子,雙手叉在腰間問道："怎麼了,埃克?你難道不喜歡我做的飯?""當然喜歡嘍,如果我僱得起幫手的話,你就也能僱得起廚師了!"爸爸笑著說,這是我有生以來第一次覺得爸爸其實是個幽默的人.那臺切割機不是他工廠裡唯一的危險物,還有一臺更危險的,是用來切割厚鋼板和粗鋼條的乙炔炬.在我聽來,那乙炔炬切割時所發出的聲響比火車頭的蒸汽機發出的還要大.用它切割鋼材時,無數熔化了的金屬粉末形成液滴,在爸爸周圍四濺開來,就像一群憤怒的螢火蟲一樣.
Photographer: Artem Beliaikin, link: Pexels
Many years later, during my first daily visit, after drinking the juice my father had squeezed for me, I walked over, hugged him and said, "I love you, Dad." From then on I did this every morning. My father never told me how he felt about my hugs, and there was never any expression on his face when I gave them. Then one morning, pressed for time, I drank my juice and made for the door.
多年以後,在我開始每天去看望爸爸的第一天,我喝完了他為我親手榨的橙汁後,走到他跟前,摟住他說："爸爸,我愛你!"從那以後,每天早上我都那樣做.可是,爸爸從未告訴過我,我擁抱他時他有怎樣的感覺；不僅如此,當我擁抱他時,他甚至都面無表情.而後的又一天早上,由於時間趕不及,我喝完橙汁就向門外走去.
Dad stepped in front of me and asked, "Well!" "Well what?" I asked, knowing exactly what. "Well!" he repeated, crossing his arms and looking everywhere but at me. I hugged him extra hard. Now it was the right time to say what I'd always wanted to, "I'm fifty years old, Dad, and you've never told me you love me." My father stepped away from me. He picked up the empty juice glass, washed it and put it away. "You've told other people you love me," I said, "but I've never heard it from you."
爸爸跨步到我面前問道："這個?""噢,什麼?哪個?"我明知故問."這個!"他重複著,交叉著雙臂,目光遊離,可就是不看我.我更用力地摟了摟他.現在是時候該說出我一直想說的話了："爸,我已經50歲了,可你卻從沒對我說過一句你愛我."爸爸轉身走開了,他把那個空杯子拿去,洗乾淨放好."你對別人說你愛我,"我說,"可我從沒聽你親口對我說過."
Dad looked uncomfortable. Very uncomfortable. I moved closer to him. "Dad, I want you to tell me you love me." Dad took a step back, his lips pressed together. He seemed about to speak, then shook his head. "Tell me!" I shouted. "All right, I love you!" Dad finally blurted, his hands fluttering like wounded birds. And in that instant something occurred that I had never seen happen in my life. His eyes glistened, then overflowed.
父親看上去有些不自在,非常不自在.我走到他跟前說："爸爸,我想讓你告訴我你愛我."他雙唇緊閉,向後退了一步,欲言又止地搖了搖頭."告訴我啊!"我大聲喊道."好吧,我愛你!"父親終於說出口了,他雙手如受傷的小鳥一樣顫抖著.剎那間,我看到了有生以來從未見過的情景：他雙眼噙滿淚水,簌簌地落下.
Photographer: Pixabay, link: Pexels
I stood before him, stunned and silent. Finally, after all these years, my heart joined my head in understanding. My father loved me so much that just saying so made him weep, which was something he never, ever wanted to do, least of all in front of family. Mom had been right. Every day of my life Dad had told me how much he loved me by what he did and what he gave. "I know, Dad," I said, "I know." And now at last I did.
我呆呆地站在他面前,一句話也說不出來.畢竟這麼多年了,我最終還是理解了父親的愛-我知道了他是多麼愛我,以至於他在說出愛我時,居然能激動得熱淚盈眶.以前他可從來不會流淚,更不用說是在家人面前流淚了.媽媽是對的.在我生命的每一天,爸爸都是在用無言的行動對我說著他愛我."我知道,爸爸,"我說,"我知道."最終我明白了,也理解了.
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