When I entered the ward, the first thing I saw was not my father, but a few good colleagues around the bed.

Then, I saw Dad. However, I didn't want to believe it was Dad.

Or rather, I didn't even see at first glance that the person in bed was my father.

It was a man with gauze and white bandages on most of his body, half of his head wrapped in gauze, and a faint trace of dark red and brown blood could be seen. "The man" had his right leg, waist and two arms tightly wrapped in bandages.

But I still recognized him after all, he was my father, even though he was unrecognizable.

At that moment, I burst into tears on the spot.

"Daddy!" I didn't pounce. Instead, he walked to his bedside step by step, and his father fell asleep with his head on his side, with a lot of tubes inserted into his body, and the drip of potion continued to flow into his father's body through the tubes.

Dad seemed to be asleep and didn't hear me screaming.

Thinking of his father, who was still high-spirited and domineering yesterday, but now he has become so unrecognizable, tears can no longer be restrained, and he flows out.

I was standing at my father's bedside, just watching him silently.

"When I found out about it last night, your dad had already had surgery...... I don't know when, Aunt Xiaofang had already walked behind me, she patted me on the shoulder, and said in a very soft voice. "The doctor said that your father was very drunk, and in that situation, it was almost impossible to think of a car accident......

Aunt Xiaofang whispered something I didn't understand at all.

I just stood there, looking at my dad wrapped in bandages and gauze, my mind blank and I couldn't move anymore.

Why...... Will it turn out like this......

Why......

It's all my fault.

"Daddy!"

"Daddy......!"

"Daddy......"

I called Dad over and over again and stood there stupidly, more like talking to myself. My relatives came to persuade me, but I felt like I was in a fog, my throat felt like I wanted to vomit, and my head was dizzy.

I was really on the verge of breaking down.

I sat on the edge of my father's bed in silence, watching him every breath, watching his chest rise and fall a little, praying in my heart, praying with a strong thought that I had never felt in my life.

Daddy, please wake up no matter what.

Please.

It's going to be fine. It's really going to be fine.

In the future, I will definitely listen to you, study hard, go to university, and then I will go to graduate school, get a doctorate, and find the best job in the future, just like you have been looking forward to for so many years, to make a career.

Definitely, definitely.

As long as you can be safe.

At that moment, I was really remorseful. If I had been able to endure it for a while yesterday, calmly tell my father, beg him for forgiveness, wait for him to be angry, and discuss countermeasures with her, maybe everything would not be like this.

Things won't come to this.

Sitting at the head of my father's bed, I kept staring at my father's haggard and painful face, and my mind couldn't stop recalling the bits and pieces of me and my father when I was a child.

I really don't have many memories before my parents divorced, but in the only memory I have, my father is the most important and irreplaceable existence for me.

When I was a child, every time my dad went on a business trip, he would bring some toys and barbecue back to make me happy.

When I had a parent-teacher conference in elementary school, sometimes my classmates and teachers sued me, saying that I was not, and my father would beat me and scold me. But soon after that, as soon as I reflected and swore to repent, he would smile at me and take me to the street to buy toys, clothes, and comics to make me laugh again.

Another time I got into a fight with a classmate at school and scratched that classmate's face, and when I got home, my dad gave me a hard lesson and locked me in the toilet. At that time I really thought that my dad would never forgive me again. But a few days later, my father forgave me and bought me chicken, making chicken soup for me to drink.

At that time, I really felt that no matter how painful and painful the scolding I was, it was worth it.

Because I have chicken soup made by my dad to drink.

I still remember one day, it was raining, I didn't have an umbrella at school, and there were many people who took it, waiting at the school gate, I thought I couldn't come home, but I saw my father's car parked at the door, through the car window, I saw my father smiling and waving to me from afar.

At that time, the sky was rainy and dark, but my heart was clear and clear.

One time, I had a bad stomach and had diarrhea, and my father came back to take me to the hospital for an intravenous drip when he found out, and I was lying in bed and refused to eat my usual meals, so he ran to buy KFC for me. I said I wanted to read comics, and my dad bought them for me.

I made a lot of demands that day, and even I thought it was too much, but my dad helped me do it all.

Maybe Dad also knows, he rarely comes home, so it's not easy for me to be coquettish once.

That's why he tries to satisfy the delicate me.

At that time, I really felt that I was really happy to have such a father.

At that time, I felt like the happiest kid in the world.

For more than a decade, because of my father's kindness to me, I really rarely thought about my mother.

Perhaps, I really forgot about my mother sometimes.

I think that since I was born, there have been only two people in this world, my father and me.

My dad and I are close to each other.

When two people are together, the whole world is the whole world.

I also know that I am the most important thing to my father, which is why he expects me to make a career and achieve something in the future.

Therefore, although I rarely take care of me because of my work, every time I make progress in my studies, my father still smiles again and again.

Dad really always expected me to grow up and grow up.

Although he never said he loved me.

But I think love, all the time.

A piece of ointment, a phone call, a meal, a glass of water, a smile.

That's all love.

Why did I take it for granted?

Why do you regret it now?

Why did I understand the moment I saw my dad standing on the edge of the cliff and about to wave goodbye.

Dad, in fact, has always loved me, protected me, and cared for me.

I just don't know.

I'm the stupidest, stupidest, and most wasteful person in the world.

I don't deserve to be human.

However, I still want to say.

Dad, I love you so much.

Thank you all the time.

……

Dad slept for three days and still didn't wake up.

In the past two days, I have only been back three times, and I have never left my father's side again.

The skull was shattered, all limbs were comminuted, and there was excessive blood loss due to heavy bleeding.

This is what the doctor told me quietly.

At that time, I knew that maybe it was really too late.

It wasn't until the third day that Dad finally opened his eyes.

I still vividly remember that it was a sunny afternoon, and the bright sunlight shone through the hospital window and fell on the vase beside the bed, and the flowers beside the bed were vividly detrimental to the soul.

It was at that time that Dad opened his eyes little by little.

I was the first to see my dad open his eyes.

I looked at my father, and his tired eyes were looking at me.

My heart was beating faster and my heart was overjoyed.

"Daddy, are you awake......" I wiped tears from my eyes and gazed at Dad with great joy, grabbing his hand by the bedside.

But soon my smile froze.

Daddy's hands are cold.

It's like a strip of ice.

Dad just looked at my face and didn't say a word, as if he had never seen enough of me.

From the depth of his eyes, I saw something very deep, hidden.

I can't put it into words, but I can feel it.

It's something that only parents can convey.

Something that comes from the depths of the soul.

After staring at me for a long time, my father finally spoke.

Dad's voice was very soft, very weak.

But I heard it all clearly.

“…… Does it still hurt?"

Dad gently stretched out his hand, touched the still painful palm print on my face, and asked me.

I grabbed my dad's hand. His hands were wrinkled, and they were really cold.

I squeezed out a smile.

"It doesn't hurt anymore...... Daddy......"

Hearing my words, Dad seemed relieved, and he smiled with relief.

It was a smile that I will never forget.

Even today, I remember it vividly.

"That's good......" Dad said slowly, with a long aftermath.

The hand that was holding on to my father suddenly became very heavy.

Then, Dad smiled and closed his eyes.

Forever.

"Does it still hurt......

"It doesn't hurt anymore......"

That was the last conversation I had with my dad in our lives.

From now on, there will never be such a conversation again.

Because I can no longer hear that familiar voice of concern for me.