North Family Letters

The two of them would also cook various soft and delicious dishes and bring them over, such as steamed egg custard, boiled noodles, and mixed grain porridge, taking into account their father's appetite after the surgery. Sometimes, when they saw their father sitting by the window in a daze, they would sit down on either side of him and chat about trivial things in the neighborhood, tell funny stories about the younger generation, and deliberately try to get him to talk so that he wouldn't get stuck in his depression.

The fifth sister, Song Yunxi, was the most thoughtful. She specially replaced her father's cane with a lighter and more stable one, and she also put anti-slip strips on all the corners of the house, and placed handrails by the bed and tables, for fear that he might accidentally bump into something and fall. She would often squat down at her father's feet, gently massage his sore legs, and whisper, "Dad, don't rush, take your time to recover, we're all here with you."

The youngest, Song Xingran, is more sensible than anyone else, even though she is still young. Whenever she has free time after school or get off work, she rushes home to help wipe tables, sweep floors, do laundry, and tidy up, keeping the house spotless. She loves to hold her father's arm and stroll slowly with him in the yard. The sunlight falls on the father and daughter, and their quiet moments are more heartwarming than any words.

The father always said he was a burden to his children, but the smile in his eyes grew wider. When he was healthy, he was always busy making a living and rarely had time to sit down and spend with his daughters; now that he was weak, his heart had slowly softened and warmed, and the hardships and stubbornness of half a lifetime were gradually melting away in this daily companionship.

The sound of the cane tapping the ground is no longer a sign of loneliness, but rather the most comforting rhythm in the home. Each step, each movement, represents the slow pace of the rest of one's life; each meal at the table represents the thoughtful care of one's children.

He gradually stopped sighing and stopped saying he was useless.

On a sunny afternoon, looking at my six daughters chatting and laughing around me, I softly said:

"This life has been worthwhile."

His legs were weak and he couldn't muster any strength. He had to hold onto the wall and grip his cane to move slowly, and he would be out of breath after only a few steps. But even though his body was weak, his eyes became clearer day by day. The tension and stubbornness that used to be hidden in his wrinkles were gradually replaced by gentleness.

The six sisters took turns staying by his side. Some helped him take walks, some cooked soup and fed him, some massaged his legs, and some chatted with him about everyday things. The estrangement that had arisen from being busy, misunderstandings, and starting their own families slowly melted away in their daily companionship.

Life passed slowly and peacefully, without any dramatic events, only the quiet companionship of a gentle stream. Under the family's meticulous care, Father's spirits gradually improved, his complexion became rosy, and he finally overcame this life-threatening ordeal, making a steady recovery. For the rest of his life, though no longer physically strong, he was surrounded by his children, enjoying a peaceful and tranquil old age. Life gradually returned to normal, and the children became busy with their own lives and work, often leaving Father alone at home.

Fortunately, my second sister owns a restaurant, and no matter how busy she is, she always thinks about our elderly father. At mealtimes, she always leaves an extra portion of food in the kitchen, carefully selecting soft, delicious, and mild dishes, packing them in a thermal container, and personally delivering them home.

Sometimes it was a bowl of hot soup, sometimes a dish of stir-fry, and sometimes freshly steamed soft rice. My father would sit at the table, eating the steaming food, and his heart would feel warm too. Everyone said he was lucky; although he lived alone, he had never eaten a cold meal. But no one expected that my second sister would suddenly receive a job and have to go on a business trip to another city for a while.

The responsibility of delivering meals to their father naturally fell to the other sisters. The eldest sister took the lead and discussed with the third, fourth, and fifth sisters that they would take turns delivering food to their father on time, one day at a time.

Everyone is usually busy making a living, so it's rare to see them all working together like this. Some people prepared soup early in the morning, some stir-fried the soft vegetables that their father liked, and some specially steamed an extra bowl of rice. No matter how busy they were with work, no one made excuses when it was time to eat, remembering that there was an old father at home waiting for a hot meal.

Looking at the different meals every day and the faces that rushed in and left in a hurry, the father didn't say anything, but his heart was full of peace.

With my second sister away on a business trip, the responsibility of delivering meals was steadily taken over by my eldest sister, third sister, fourth sister, and fifth sister. The four of them took turns delivering three meals a day, right on time. But no matter how well they took care of us during the day, it couldn't fill the emptiness of the long nights.

My father still lives alone in the empty house. His legs are far from as nimble as they were when he recovered, and his worn-smooth wooden cane has become his indispensable support. On ordinary days, getting up or sitting down requires him to grip the cane tightly, his arm veins bulging, just to move slowly. At mealtimes, he has to hold onto the edge of the table and sit down slowly, even carefully lifting his bowl, afraid of spilling it. At night, he dares not sleep too soundly, fearing that no one will help him when he gets up. He always moves slowly in the dark, pausing after each step. The cane's dull, lonely thud on the concrete floor is particularly clear in the quiet house. He never wants to bother his children by calling, knowing they each have their own work and families, and leave hurriedly after delivering meals during the day. He sits alone on the sofa, watching the sky outside the window darken from light to shadow, silently enduring until dawn. His lonely figure is stretched long by the setting sun, even his breath carries a sense of desolation.

No one expected the accident to come without warning. That night, the weather was cold and gloomy, with a strong wind blowing outside. The father needed to urinate urgently and, afraid of waking the neighbors who occasionally stayed overnight, didn't dare turn on the light. He grabbed his cane in the dark and slowly sat up in bed. His slippers slipped, and he lost his balance instantly. The cane crashed to the ground with a thud, and he fell heavily backward onto the cold, hard concrete floor. The back of his head hit the corner of the wall with a dull thud, and he convulsed in pain. He tried to scream but couldn't make a sound; only a weak groan drifted through the night. He lay on the floor, his limbs unresponsive. He tried to lift his hands to get up, but his arms were completely powerless, and his legs were numb and cold. His consciousness gradually faded, and he endured the entire night alone.

The next day, when it was the eldest sister's turn to bring food, she pushed open the slightly ajar door. The house was quiet; her father, who usually waited for her on the sofa, was nowhere to be seen. Only his crooked cane and scattered slippers lay on the floor. The eldest sister's heart tightened. She rushed into the bedroom and immediately saw her father lying on the floor, his face deathly pale. His eyes were slightly open, his breath weak, his lips cracked, and his body covered in dust. He was in a semi-conscious state. The eldest sister was so frightened that she dropped the insulated food container with a thud, spilling the food everywhere. She rushed over and hugged her father, her voice trembling as she cried out, but received no response.

In the chaos, the eldest sister quickly dialed the other sisters' numbers. The third, fourth, and fifth sisters rushed over, their faces pale, frantically dialing emergency services and carrying their father downstairs, calling out to him constantly. But their father's eyes remained tightly closed; only his faint breathing proved he was still alive. The ambulance sped into the hospital with its siren blaring. The red light in the emergency room stayed on for a long time. The sisters stood outside, clenching their hands, trembling, tears streaming down their faces, praying repeatedly that their father would be alright.

But fate was not on their side. The doctor came out of the emergency room, took off his mask, and told them with a solemn expression that the fall had caused severe spinal and nerve damage, as well as minor brain bleeding. Although he survived, he was completely paralyzed, unable to move from the neck down, and had lost his ability to take care of himself. Even swallowing and speaking had become difficult, and all his bodily functions were rapidly declining. He told them to prepare themselves mentally, as the old man's days were numbered.

These words were like a bucket of ice water, drenching everyone. They gathered around the hospital bed, looking at their father, who used to be able to walk slowly with crutches, eat hot meals, and exchange a few words with them, now lying in bed, his body covered in tubes, his eyes cloudy and lifeless, unable even to turn his head. Only the faint rise and fall of his chest told them he was still alive. The eldest sister covered her face, squatted on the floor, and wept uncontrollably, regretting that she had only been busy delivering meals during the day and hadn't thought to leave someone to keep him company at night; the other sisters also sobbed, filled with self-blame, blaming themselves for neglecting the dangers of their father living alone, blaming themselves for not spending more time with him. At that moment, everyone knew in their hearts that this time, their father truly couldn't hold on any longer; the strong, capable father who could support the family was gone forever.