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.

Having enrolled at Shiyan Foreign Language School, I felt my boarding life there become 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 on end. 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 while I was with Mum. “Does Dad still love me?” I often found myself asking. A sense of being neglected 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 I was back home from 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. As I was hopping 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. The car pulling 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 Dad still love me?” I managed my small steps down the slippery lane as my mind was wandering.

I remembered that the years 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 boomed over from behind, “Run, son! It’s raining hard!” I could not but turn round. Father was still there, again, waving his hand. All those memories coming flooding back, 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.