Sometimes I hate my dad very much, but I know that my dad really loves me. I used to hide behind my dad when I was scared when I walked to the grave. But now I’m not scared anymore because I know it’s my dad inside.
Although my father is not rich, he has never let me go hungry or get wet in the rain. That day I picked my father from the sky and I took a fancy to him. I thought he must be very good. As I expected, he treated me very well.
Previously I felt that my father was very annoying, but later I learned that men after middle age often feel lonely because they are surrounded by people who rely on them, but there is no one for them to rely on.
My father never said that he loved me, but everything he did Everything tells me that he loves me. The whole family relies on dad, but no one relies on him. I have to leave a portion of the tenderness in this world for dad.
I used to find my dad very annoying. Then I learned that men after middle age often feel lonely because they are surrounded by people. There is no one who can rely on him.
My father was also a little friend who had dreams when he was a child. He also became a father for the first time. Sometimes he is really annoying, but it does not affect my love for him.
My father never said it. The love of words is like that day when I was hungry in the middle of the night and he scolded me and told me to go to bed. Not long after, he put delicious food in front of me.
I have the warmest embrace but I am tired of it. I don’t have strong arms but I don’t want to have them anymore. , I mean, can I lean on his arms and want to enter his arms at the same time?
Father's love is a beacon in my journey of life, illuminating my journey when I am lost. The most gentle thing is the embrace of my mother. The most solid is the father's shoulders, the most gentle is the mother's embrace. The most solid is the father's shoulders
Father's love is a ray of sunshine in winter; Father's love is a great book of wisdom; Father's love is an umbrella that protects against wind and rain.
