Our Dad died forty-one years ago today. We, his four children, loved him. Every instant of love has a possessive “I-need-you” element in itself. The difference between the parental love and the filial one is that the former contains much less of possession and much more of sacrifice. The understanding of this unbalance between Dad’s altruistic feeling and my acceptance of it in those days as something self-evident and matter-of-fact is putting me (father and grandfather myself) on the way back to my Dad. Like a prodigal son, I’m treading this path, even though I know I’ll never meet him.


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