父亲的皮带（2/2）
《穿过爱的时光》作者：杨柳青 2017-01-24 02:12
buse and forbid it from entering his own home when he became a husband and father
We couldn’t have asked for a kinder, gentler man than my dad, and we all trusted and loved him deeply. When he talked of his childhood and the beatings he’d received, his eyes would slowly slide over to the belt hanging on the wall and his whole demeanor would change. The power of those beatings must have been terrible. After these stories, I always went to bed with a heavy heart, thinking of the childhood that had been robbed from this kind and loving man.
My father taught us that no matter what happened in our lives，we would always be welcome home anytime. And we knew that we could always count on a smile and a tender word of advice to soothe us when we got there.
Time continued her dance，and we all grew up and moved out. Still，we continued to receive guidance and love from our father until the day he died. It hit us all hard. As we gathered on the old farm, tears flowed freely for this man who’d had a miserable childhood but had filled ours with affection and beauty.
In the days immediately after my father’s memorial service，the lawyers came and the last wishes were stated and passed on. Although the estate was meager，we all received one gift beyond value and explanation.
In his last days, our father had taken the belt down from the wall and cut it into four pieces. We all received a piece of the belt that had hurt our father so terribly. That night，we sat around crying and discussing what he could have been thinking when he did this. As the night wore on，it began to dawn on us.
The belt symbolized everything he’d taught us not to be.
It was his trophy. He had lived through the abuse. Instead of abandoning life，like so many others might have，he’d embraced it，and in so doing，he’d turned a legacy of hate and hurt into a legacy of love and happiness.
Now，I keep that belt on my wall. We all do. It hangs as a reminder of the obstacles we can all overcome，with grace and kindness. And when my daughter is crying because she’s lost her Pokemon cards or skinned her knee，I hold her close，look at that old belt， and think of a man she will never know. A man I am honored to call Dad.
We couldn’t have asked for a kinder, gentler man than my dad, and we all trusted and loved him deeply. When he talked of his childhood and the beatings he’d received, his eyes would slowly slide over to the belt hanging on the wall and his whole demeanor would change. The power of those beatings must have been terrible. After these stories, I always went to bed with a heavy heart, thinking of the childhood that had been robbed from this kind and loving man.
My father taught us that no matter what happened in our lives，we would always be welcome home anytime. And we knew that we could always count on a smile and a tender word of advice to soothe us when we got there.
Time continued her dance，and we all grew up and moved out. Still，we continued to receive guidance and love from our father until the day he died. It hit us all hard. As we gathered on the old farm, tears flowed freely for this man who’d had a miserable childhood but had filled ours with affection and beauty.
In the days immediately after my father’s memorial service，the lawyers came and the last wishes were stated and passed on. Although the estate was meager，we all received one gift beyond value and explanation.
In his last days, our father had taken the belt down from the wall and cut it into four pieces. We all received a piece of the belt that had hurt our father so terribly. That night，we sat around crying and discussing what he could have been thinking when he did this. As the night wore on，it began to dawn on us.
The belt symbolized everything he’d taught us not to be.
It was his trophy. He had lived through the abuse. Instead of abandoning life，like so many others might have，he’d embraced it，and in so doing，he’d turned a legacy of hate and hurt into a legacy of love and happiness.
Now，I keep that belt on my wall. We all do. It hangs as a reminder of the obstacles we can all overcome，with grace and kindness. And when my daughter is crying because she’s lost her Pokemon cards or skinned her knee，I hold her close，look at that old belt， and think of a man she will never know. A man I am honored to call Dad.