Just one more step before we reached the watchtower, I heard a loud cry. It did not come from
elsewhere, but Dad.
“
Dad! What’s…”
Before I managed to finish my words, Dad, together with me, fell down onto the ground. Mum, who
was right behind us, hurried up and she gave a loud cry as well.
Soon we were surrounded in the centre by other visitors.
Dad was panting seriously and he could not respond to Mum’s call.
I tried my best to stand up from the hard and cold surface of the stone step, which hurt my legs.
“
Dad….” I was trying to call Dad when I heard I dropped something onto the floor. I looked at the
floor and I spotted a piece of plastic brick.
I picked the brick up and suddenly my fingers experienced an abrupt stabbing pain, which was like
they were pricked by needles. This stabbing pain was very familiar, it was what I experienced before I came and
saw Dad! I tried my very best to stop the pain, begging in my heart that I would not leave Dad. This time the
brick stuck very hard to my hand and the pain continued. In a few seconds the pain was more and more
unbearable that it extended from my fingers to my whole body. I could not stand straight and I looked onto the
floor—it was spinning very swiftly that I could not even see my shoes.
I experienced two more seconds of the sharp pain before I saw the whole Wall was darkened.
***
“
Adelaide, breakfast is ready!” A female voice woke me up.
From my partially opened eyes I could only see a very vague image. In my blurred sight I spotted the
piece of plastic brick in my hand. Oh, the pain disappeared.
I found myself on a wooden chair---the one in Dad’s room. I stood up and glanced at the room.
Everything remained the same, except the “Wall” was no longer collapsed. Though I was puzzled, I still put the
last piece of brick in my hand onto the unfinished watchtower.
The Wall was “built”.
Under the desk I could still find the wooden box. I brought it onto the desk, intended to put the “Wall”
back into it.
Just before I put the “Wall” back I spotted two yellowish photos in the box. I took them out, examining
the familiar faces in the photos.
They were taken at the Great Wall. I smiled bitterly, for I knew exactly when they were taken.
I found a piece of news in the box. I took it out, and the title went like:
“
A loving father died of sudden heart disease at the Great Wall, carrying his daughter.”
Dad’s photo was right under the title.
I shivered and could not manage to stop my tears from running out of my eyes.
“
Adelaide!” shouted Mum from downstairs.
“
I’m coming!” I squeezed my nose and answered.
“
Mum, can we go and visit Dad once again tomorrow?” I asked Mum while I was hurrying downstairs.
***
Standing in front of the grave, I bowed, with a bunch of Chrysanthemum in my hands.
While I was wiping off the dust on Dad’s photo, I stared at this loving and familiar face.
“
Why would you want to visit Dad today?” asked Mum when she was clearing the dirt around the
grave.
I smiled, “Because I missed him.”
For I feel proud that Dad had written a beautiful new tale of a loving father at the Great Wall.
* * *