I remember, before going to Hanoi, Dad told Mom many things, taking care of her little by little. Dad bought Mom a bag of brown rice because she had diabetes. Dad told Mom to wait for him to come back home and take care of everything together.

The night before the surgery, Dad was still talking and laughing happily with everyone in the hospital room, surprisingly optimistic. The next morning, before the sky had even gotten light, Dad was scheduled for surgery. Everything happened so fast, before Dad could tell me anything, we hurriedly put on our gowns and followed the doctor. That was the last time I heard Dad speak clearly.

After long days in the hospital, my father was finally able to return home. But he was bedridden and could no longer speak. Just turning over would make him exhausted. My mother took care of him little by little, day and night. I still remember clearly what my mother said that day: "Just bring your father back here, no matter how hard it is, I can take care of him." My mother rarely spoke words of affection, but after those words, I understood that her love and sacrifice for my father were unmatched. She had endured all her hardships for her husband and children, and had kept all her bitterness and suffering inside. I suddenly thought, isn't that sacrifice the noble "vocation" of Vietnamese women?

During those days, living in the love of my family, I was able to appreciate all the good things in life. Mom lay next to Dad, watching over him while he slept, her face filled with worry and fatigue. Looking at my parents, my heart was filled with infinite compassion. How many days in life are there that are happy and carefree? But I believe that with Mom's immense love for Dad, for her children, for her daughter-in-law and grandchildren, she will overcome everything. Living for others, isn't that the most noble and beautiful way to live?

At night, the cold wind carries the remaining chill of Miss Ban. I just wish the weather would not change, so that my father could sleep well and my mother would not have to work so hard. Every night, I only have one small wish. I will never forget that night, my father held my hand and my younger brother's, trying to tell us, even though his voice was very weak: "You two have to take care of your mother". I will carry that advice with me for the rest of my life. A few days later, my father passed away forever. I believe that the love between my father and mother is a beautiful love, a love of worry and concern for each other until their last breath. To live like that, isn't that a life worth living?

Time passed, the pain gradually subsided but was replaced by a burning, lingering longing. One afternoon, I had to go out to the street, a sudden cool breeze blew in, making my heart flutter. Autumn had come at some point. Then a sudden downpour came, pouring rain. At night, the weather was cold. Thinking about human life, it is like the four seasons of spring, summer, autumn, and winter. It is long, but also short. I thought I would forever be immersed in suffering, but then the pain gradually subsided and happiness slowly returned. From childhood to adulthood, on every step of my life, I always had my father in my heart.

The other day, my little daughter asked her: "Grandma, grandpa passed away, can he still see me?". My mother smiled kindly and said softly: "Yes, grandpa! Grandpa always follows your every step. Be a good boy to make grandpa happy!"