When I was growing up I did not recall hearing the words“I love you”from my father. When your father never says them to you when you are a child， it gets tougher and tougher for him to say those words as he gets older. To tell the truth， I could not honestly remember when I had last said those words to him either. I decided to set my ego aside and make the first move. After some hesitation， in our next phone conversation I blurted out the words，“Dad... I love you！”
There was a silence at the other end and he awkwardly replied“， same back at you！”
Well，
I chuckled and said，“Dad， I know you love me， and when you are ready， I know you will say what you want to say.”
Fifteen minutes later my mother called and nervously asked，“Paul， is everything okay？”
A few weeks later， Dad concluded our phone conversation with thewords，“Paul， I love you.”I was at work during this conversation and the tears were rolling down my cheeks as I finally heard“the love. As we both sat there in tears we realized that this special moment had taken our father-son relationship to a new level.
A short while after this special moment， my father narrowly escaped death following heart surgery. Many times since， I have pondered the thought， if I did not take the first step and Dad did not survive the surgery， I would have never”heard“the love.
爱要用心聆听。
参考翻译（佚名）
在我成长过程中，就不记得听到爸爸说”我爱你“三个字。要是在你还是个孩子的时候，你的爸爸就从未对你说过”我爱你“，那么，随着岁月流逝，他会越来越难以开口。说真的，我也记不起上次对爸爸说”我爱你“是什么时候了。我决定放下矜持主动表白。短暂犹豫过后，在我们下次通话时，我终于脱口说出了”爸……我爱你！“电话那头一阵沉默过后，他有些难为情地回应道：“嗯，我也爱你！”
我暗自窃喜：“爸，我知道你是爱我的，等你准备好的时候，你就会说出你想说的话。”
一刻钟之后，妈妈打来电话，焦虑地问：“保罗，你没出什么事吧？”
几周之后，爸爸在通话结束时说：“保罗，我爱你。”当时我正在上班，泪水滑落脸庞，我终于“听见”了爱。我们一定都感动得热泪盈眶，我们意识到这特殊的时刻将父子间的感情升华到了一个崭新的层次。
在此特殊时刻之后不久，爸爸做了心脏手术，幸好死里逃生。从那以后，我时常回想，当初要是我没有迈出第一步，要是爸爸的手术没有成功，那我就永远都没机会“听见”爱了。
Dad 老爸
Anonymous
The first memory I have of him- of anything， really- is his strength. It was in the late afternoon in a house under construction near ours. The unfinished wood floor had large， terrifying holes whose yawning darkness I knew led to nowhere good. His powerful hands， then age 33， wrapped all the way around my tiny arms， then age 4， and easily swung me up to his shoulders to command all I surveyed.
The relationship between a son and his father changes over time. It may grow and flourish in mutual maturity. It may sour in resented dependence or independence. With many children living in single-parent homes today， it may not even exist.
But to a little boy right after World War Ⅱ ， a father seemed a god with strange strengths and uncanny powers enabling him to do and know things that no mortal could do or know. Amazing things， like putting a bicycle chain back on， just like that. Or building a hamster cage. Orguiding a jigsaw so it forms the letter F； I learned the alphabet that way in those pre-television days.
There were， of course， rules to learn. First came the handshake. None of those fishy little finger grips， but a good firm squeeze accompanied by an equally strong gaze into the other’s eyes.“The first thing anyone knows about you is your handshake.”he would say. And we‘d practice it each night on his return from work， the serious toddler in the battered Cleveland Indian’s cap running up to the giant father to shake hands again and again until it was firm enough.
As time passed， there were other rules to learn.“Always do your best.”“Do it now.”“Never lie！”And most importantly，“You can do whatever you have to do.”By my teens， he wasn‘t telling me what to do anymore， which was scary and heady at the same time. He provided perspective， not telling me what was around the great corner of life but letting me know there was a lot more than just today and the next， which I hadn’t thought of.
One day， I realize now， there was a change. I wasn‘t trying to please him so much as I was trying to impress him. I never asked him to come to my football games. He had a high-pressure career， and it meant driving through most of Friday night. But for all the big games， when I looked over at the sideline， there was that familiar fedora. And by God， did the opposing team captain ever get a firm handshake and a gaze he would remember.
Then， a school fact contradicted something he said. Impossible that he could be wrong， but there it was in the book. These accumulated over time， along with personal experiences， to buttress my own developing sense of values. And I could tell we had each taken our own， perfectly normal paths.
I began to see， too， his blind spots， his prejudices and his weaknesses. I never threw these up at him. He hadn’t to me， and， anyway， he seemed to need protection. I stopped asking his advice； the experiences he drew from no longer seemed relevant to the decisions I had to make.
He volunteered advice for a while. But then， in more recent years， politics and issues gave way to talk of empty errands and， always， to ailments.
From his bed， he showed me the many sores and scars on his misshapen body and all the bottles for medicine.“Sometimes，”he confided，“I would just like to lie down and go to sleep and not wake up.”
After much thought and practice （“You can do whatever you have to do.”）， one night last winter， I sat down by his bed and remembered for an instant those terrifying dark holes in another house 35 years before. I told my father how much I loved him. I described all the things people were doing for him. But， I said， he kept eating poorly， hiding in his room and violating the doctor‘s orders. No amount of love could make someone else care about life， I said， it was a two-way street. He wasn’t doing his best. The decision was his.
He said he knew how hard my words had been to say and how proud he was of me.“I had the best teacher.”I said.“You can do whatever you have to do.”He smiled a little. And we shook hands， firmly， for the last time.
Several days later， at about 4 a.m.， my mother heard Dad shuffling about their dark room.“I have some things I have to do. he said. He paid a bundle of bills. He composed for my mother a long list of legal and financial what-to-do‘s”in case of emergency“. And he wrote me a note.
Then he walked back to his bed and laid himself down. He went to sleep， naturally. And he did not wake up.
父爱如山似海，父爱是一首永远也唱不完的歌。
参考翻译（佚名）