Hands Covered in Black
Today I found myself crying in a mall, and it reminded me of my father. My father was an electrician. Somehow, through years of experience and hard work, he also learned how to repair the electrical systems of buses. He worked in a bus shop, the kind of place filled with grease, metal, noise, and the smell of diesel. It wasn’t easy work, but he did it every day to support our family. When I was in college, there was a time I had to go to the bus shop to ask him for money for my tuition. Without paying, I wouldn’t be allowed to take my exam. I felt ashamed and hesitant, but I had no choice. When I arrived, a woman at the shop told me to wait. While I was standing there, I saw someone crawling out from under a bus. His clothes were dirty, his face covered with black grease, and he looked extremely tired. Then I realized it was my father. When he saw me, he smiled. I smiled back, but inside I felt nervous. I didn’t want to ask him for money, especially after seeing how hard he was working. But eventually I told him I needed to pay my tuition so I could take my exam. Without hesitation, he immediately went to the woman in the office and asked for an advance on his salary. He came back and handed me the full amount I needed. He didn’t stop to think about how we would manage the family expenses for the next month. In that moment, his only concern was making sure I could continue my studies. Years later, when I graduated and got my first job, I wanted to give something back to him. His shoes were already worn out and broken, so I decided to buy him a pair of sneakers. We went to the mall together. I still remember how his eyes lit up when he looked at a pair of Converse shoes. He really liked them. But when I checked my wallet, I realized I didn’t have enough money. I felt embarrassed and disappointed in myself. I told him that my money wasn’t enough to buy the shoes he liked. Without hesitation, he smiled and said, “Let’s go to the bargain shop instead.” Inside the bargain store, he found a very cheap, unbranded pair of shoes. He held them up proudly and smiled like he had just found something wonderful. He acted so happy with those shoes. But inside, I felt disappointed in myself. I wished I could have given him the shoes he truly wanted. Later in life, my father lost his job at the bus shop. A new management came in and decided to keep only younger workers. Suddenly, my father and mother had no work. There was a time when it was only the two of them living in the house because all of us siblings had moved elsewhere. One day, my father asked if he could borrow some money from me so they could buy food. I gave him the money. But then he said something that shocked me. “I’ll pay you back when I have money.” When I heard those words, a deep pain ran through my whole body. I immediately told him, “No, Papa. Don’t say that. You don’t need to pay me back.” In that moment, I wanted to hug him so badly. But I was shy. So I didn’t. That is something I still think about today. In 2015, my father died in an accident. Even though we were already supporting them and they had monthly insurance, he still continued to work because he didn’t want to rely completely on us. Ironically, the accident happened while he was doing electrical work. I cried so hard. I still miss him deeply. He wasn’t able to see us succeed in life. He never got to ride in my new car. There were so many things I wish I could have shared with him. Today, something happened that brought all those memories back. I saw an old man in the mall who looked very much like my father. He was choosing a snack to buy. At first, he picked something he seemed to like, but then he quietly changed it for something cheaper. When I saw that, it reminded me of my father immediately. So I followed him and politely asked if I could pay for his snack. He said yes. I felt happy to help him, and I also gave him a little extra money. But the moment I walked away, I suddenly thought about my father. And I started crying right there in the mall. Sometimes love shows itself in quiet sacrifices — in dirty hands, tired faces, cheap shoes, and words left unsaid. My father may no longer be here, but the lessons he gave me are still alive. And today, in a small way, I hope I was able to pass his kindness on to someone else.


