文 / HuSir

　　家族里的爱，究竟是如何传递下去的呢？年轻时，我并不明白。

　　我的父亲在二十九年前因病离世。那时的我，还像一个浪子一样，每天和工厂里的朋友四处游荡、喝酒作乐。虽然已经结婚，也有了一个一岁多的女儿，但我对“父亲”这个身份，其实并没有真正的理解。对我而言，生活不过是眼前的热闹与奔波，家里似乎只是“多了一张嘴”，而父亲的离去，也并没有让我立刻感受到什么叫“失去”。

　　现在回头看，那并不是因为我没有感情，而是因为那时的我，根本还没有真正经历人生。那时的我，还站在“儿子”的位置上，却从未真正进入我“父亲”的生命里，更不理解他对我的爱。

　　而母亲的离开，则是在三年前疫情末期。距离父亲去世，已经过去了近三十年。三十年的时间，可以让一个懵懂的年轻人，慢慢走进中年。

　　这些年，我经历了家庭、疾病、压力、社会环境的变化，也经历了信仰带来的反思与重建。当母亲离开时，我第一次深深感受到一种难以言说的不舍。因为我忽然意识到：母亲的离开，不只是失去一个亲人，更意味着——我和远在他乡、已经接近而立之年的女儿，也正在慢慢走进当年父亲与我之间那段人生关系的倒影。

　　人这一生，很多事情只有亲自经历之后，才会真正明白。年轻时，我们总觉得父母的话太多、管得太宽，甚至觉得他们不够理解自己。可当自己真正开始牵挂儿女，真正开始在深夜思念远方的孩子时，才会忽然有一天恍然大悟：噢，原来当年的父母，也是这样深深地思念着我们。

　　那一刻，我忽然理解了那个沉默寡言、不善表达的父亲。也终于理解了母亲那些看似平常、甚至有些琐碎的关心背后，究竟藏着怎样漫长而深沉的爱。

　　父母那一代人，很多并不擅长表达感情。尤其父亲们，他们很少把“爱”挂在嘴边。他们只是默默工作、默默承担、默默把最好的东西留给孩子。年轻时，我们会以为他们“不懂爱”；直到自己也慢慢变老，才终于读懂：原来有些爱，本来就是沉默的。而有些理解，也注定只能在人生走过大半之后，才能慢慢抵达。

　　往年的母亲节，我总会给母亲打电话、发信息，或者陪她一起吃顿饭。如今，电话那头再也没有回应了，只剩下心里的怀念与默默祝福。这种感觉，其实很无奈。因为时间不会停下来。父母终究会老去，而我们也终究会走到他们当年的位置。但换一个角度去想，父母真正希望的，难道不是儿女过得好吗？

　　当然是。真正的爱，并不是把孩子永远留在身边，而是希望他们能够好好生活，能够活得真实、平安、有尊严。

　　而我如今认真地跟随神的带领，努力做好眼前的每一件事，认真面对生活、面对家庭、面对自己的内心，不正是对父母之爱最好的回应吗？

　　尤其是我的母亲。她很早就接触了基督信仰。在父亲弥留之际，她带领父亲信靠了主耶稣作为救主。此后的三十多年里，她不断聚会、祷告，也在默默影响着我们弟兄二人。要知道，很多时候，父母真正留给孩子的，并不仅仅是看得见的“财富”，而是生命的方向。

　　他们如何面对苦难？如何面对疾病？如何面对死亡？如何面对人？又如何面对神？等等。这些东西，往往会在孩子多年以后的人生里，慢慢发芽。

　　我想，每一个家庭都有自己的难处。没有谁的人生是真正轻松的。但也许，耶稣基督真正教导我们的，并不是逃避人生，而是：在每一代人的责任里，继续学习去爱。父母爱儿女；儿女长大后，终于理解父母；而下一代，又在新的生命经历里，重新读懂“爱”是什么。这种爱的传递，其实也是一种属灵生命的延续。它不仅存在于血缘之中，更存在于信仰之中。

　　因为真正的爱，从来不是控制，而是盼望对方活得更好；真正的信仰，也不是束缚，而是让人越来越真实、越来越自由。

　　而所谓“效法基督”，或许正是：在有限的人生里，学会像基督那样去爱人、理解人、饶恕人，并在每一代人的生命里，把这种爱继续传递下去。如今，当我思念远方的女儿时，我也终于能够更加平静地理解父母当年的心。

　　而这种理解，并不会让爱停止，反而会让爱继续向下一代流淌。何其美哉。

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A Love for Parents That Can Only Be Understood After Walking Through Life

By HuSir

How is love within a family passed down from one generation to another?

When I was young, I did not understand.

My father passed away from illness twenty-nine years ago. At that time, I was still like a prodigal son, wandering around with friends from the factory, drinking and seeking amusement everywhere. Although I was already married and had a daughter just over one year old, I did not truly understand what it meant to be a “father.” To me, life was simply the excitement and busyness right in front of me. It felt as though having a family merely meant “one more mouth to feed,” and my father’s death did not immediately make me feel what it truly meant to “lose” someone.

Looking back now, it was not because I lacked emotion, but because I had not yet truly experienced life itself. At that time, I still stood only in the position of a “son.” I had never truly entered into my father’s life, nor understood the love he carried for me.

My mother passed away three years ago, near the end of the pandemic. Nearly thirty years had passed since my father’s death. Thirty years is enough time for a naïve young man to slowly walk into middle age.

Over those years, I experienced family burdens, illness, pressure, changes in society, and also the reflection and rebuilding brought about by faith. When my mother left this world, for the first time I deeply felt an indescribable sense of loss. Because I suddenly realized: my mother’s departure was not merely the loss of a loved one. It also meant that my daughter — living far away and now approaching her thirties — and I were slowly stepping into the very reflection of the relationship that once existed between my father and me.

There are many things in life that people can only truly understand after personally walking through them.

When we are young, we often feel our parents talk too much, interfere too much, or simply do not understand us. But when we ourselves begin to worry about our own children, when we begin lying awake at night missing a child far away, suddenly one day we awaken to a realization:

Ah… so this is how deeply our parents once missed us too.

At that moment, I finally understood my quiet, reserved father who was never good at expressing himself. I also finally understood the long and profound love hidden beneath my mother’s seemingly ordinary, even trivial, acts of care.

Many parents of their generation were not skilled at expressing emotions. Especially fathers — they rarely spoke the word “love.” They simply worked silently, carried burdens silently, and silently left the best things for their children. When we were young, we often thought they “didn’t know how to love.” Only when we ourselves slowly grow older do we finally understand:

Some kinds of love were always silent to begin with.

And some forms of understanding can only arrive after a person has already walked through more than half of life.

In past years, on Mother’s Day I would always call my mother, send her messages, or take her out for a meal. But now, there is no longer anyone answering on the other side of the phone. What remains is only silent remembrance and blessing in my heart.

There is something deeply helpless about that feeling.

Because time never stops. Parents eventually grow old and leave us, and one day we ourselves arrive at the very place where they once stood.

But when viewed from another angle, don’t parents ultimately wish for their children to live well?

Of course they do.

True love is not about keeping children forever by one’s side. It is about hoping they can live well, live truthfully, peacefully, and with dignity.

And today, as I sincerely follow God’s guidance, striving to faithfully do each thing before me, honestly facing life, family, and my own heart — is this not the best response I can offer to my parents’ love?

Especially my mother.

She encountered the Christian faith quite early in life. In my father’s final days, she led him to place his trust in the Lord Jesus as his Savior. For more than thirty years afterward, she continued attending gatherings, praying, and quietly influencing my brother and me.

Because many times, what parents truly leave behind for their children is not merely visible “wealth,” but the direction of life itself.

How they faced suffering.
How they faced illness.
How they faced death.
How they treated people.
And how they approached God.

These things often begin to quietly grow within their children many years later.

I believe every family carries its own struggles. No one’s life is truly easy.

But perhaps what Jesus Christ truly taught us was not to escape life, but to continue learning how to love within the responsibilities of each generation.

Parents love their children.
Children grow older and finally begin to understand their parents.
Then the next generation, through new life experiences, slowly discovers again what love truly means.

This transmission of love is itself a continuation of spiritual life.

It exists not only in bloodlines, but also in faith.

Because true love is never about control, but about hoping the other person can live well. And true faith is not bondage, but something that makes a person increasingly authentic and increasingly free.

And perhaps “following Christ” ultimately means this:

Within our limited lives, learning to love others, understand others, and forgive others as Christ did — and then continuing to pass that love on through each generation.

Now, when I miss my daughter far away, I can finally understand my parents’ hearts much more peacefully.

And this understanding does not cause love to stop.
Instead, it allows love to continue flowing into the next generation.

How beautiful that is.