My parents split up over ten years ago, when I was still in primary school. I remember very little of the separation itself. Although Dad was awarded custody upon the breakup, I have been either with Dad or with Mum over the years. An incident tugged at my heartstrings during the stormy years of my life.

After I entered Shiyan Foreign Language School, my boarding life became unbearable, because there was merely a little time to be at home. What was worse, Father’s house was much farther away from the school than Mother’s. Therefore, I had to stay with Mother for months. I was under the impression that Father disliked me and that he did not care a bit about me, for he did not even give me a call when I was with Mum. Disappointment crept up on my heart.

In Grade 9, time to be home was cut even further due to the imminent high school entrance exam. I lost almost all hope to see my father. One day after school, however, my father called in and asked me whether I would eat out with him that evening. Surprised and confused, I asked myself, “Does Dad still love me?” I accepted his invitation anyway.

I came out of Mother’s dwelling and waited at the entrance of our tower block. A light rain started to fall. Without an umbrella, I stood there, braving the weather. Before long Father pulled by. When I hopped in, Father asked, “Son, why aren’t you carrying an umbrella? It’s raining.” His question was met by my stony silence plus a blank stare.

My sulk lasted throughout the meal and did not vanish until we came back. Father needed to take me back to Mother’s because the next day I would be going back to school. After the car pulled over at the entrance of the block of flats, I mumbled a feeble “Goodbye” and got out. By that time, the rain had turned heavier. “Does Father dislike me?” I managed my small steps down the slippery lane as my mind was wandering.

I remembered that when I had been younger, every time Father took me back to Mother’s, I would turn round, finding that he was still there waving at me. I would wave back. I missed those occasions so much that I was close to tears.

All of a sudden, a voice came over from behind, “Run, son! It’s raining hard!” I could not help but turn round. Father was still there, again, waving his hand. Warmth refilled my existence and dispelled the chill in my heart. I ran back to Father’s car and clung to the window, weeping. Tears could not stop themselves and joined the trickles down my cheeks. At that moment, I felt Father’s affection back.

Parental love exists forever. If you can’t feel it for a time, don’t get your parents wrong. Chances are that they have not got an opportunity to say it out loud.