What is “Old love”? I never understood it. At least, I used to. But I learned it at last, at a terrible price, a price paid in the tragedy of a Road Junction…

“Hey, brat! Get in here!”

That wasn’t the first time I heard that order. It was 3 years ago. Dad was a violent man. Mom left him when I was 5. She left the two of us for 13 years.

Being an 18-year-old, I never had a girlfriend that lasted longer than 2 days. The first thing Dad did was to chase them out the moment they entered.

Dad was a fiend when it came to drinking beer. It would be a miracle if you were able to see him, awake or asleep, without a can of beer in his hand.

Without mom, my life was truly a bed of roses. There were thorns in it as well. There were good moments, and there were some downright ugly moments. They were mostly ugly.

I never realized that he loved me. When our teacher asked the class at large what they thought “Old Love” was. Many people had different replies. I simply thought it didn’t exist.

What was “Old Love”? It’s simply 2 words with no meaning. Love should not be split into different types. If I really had to give it a meaning, it would be parents’ love. “Old” love… Just like how people age. Can love age as well? Grandparents’ love for their children and grandchildren, is that old love? Parents’ love for their children, is that old love? Is it a love that has died out?

If old love was a form of love from parents, then it definitely doesn’t exist. From a family like mine, there is no love. My dad would never love me. Never…

I walked into the living room, where my father was lying on the sofa, drinking a can of… you guessed it, beer.

“What took you so long?!” He asked grumpily. “I want more beer! Get me beer!”

“Get it yourself!” I said. I didn’t want to be his little servant anymore.

“What?!” he sounded mad. Gosh, I wonder why. “You ungrateful little… Have you forgotten who brought you up?! Have you no conscience?!”

“If I did,” I yelled back, “I would have moved out years ago! I don’t give a damn what happens to you! You didn’t bring me up! I took care of myself all my life! You think you did a lot? All you did was get mom to leave!”

I felt a sharp pain across my cheek and the next thing I knew, I was on the floor. A bit of blood was pouring out of my mouth.

“Then get out!” he bellowed. “I don’t have a son like you! If you’re so unhappy, then leave and don’t come back!”

For once, I followed his ‘orders’. I bolted out the door.

I wiped my face, both the blood and the warm tears. Love… what rubbish… it doesn’t exist. How ironic… the teacher assigned us an essay assignment to write about old love. I could never write it. How can I write about it when I never felt it? I didn’t know what it was, and I’ll never know…

I ran past several shocked people. I realized I was wearing just a sleeveless shirt and shorts. I wasn’t wearing any shoes either.

“Who is that kid?”

“Is he crying?”

I didn’t care about what others said. I just kept running. I felt a few cold drops on my head. It had begun to rain.

Even the heavens were merciless. The same as my dad. I got used to it. Just let the rain wash away the sad rivers on my cheeks. The rain was cold, but it was nowhere as cold as the heart, if he had one, of my dad.

I ran onto the road, straight in the middle of a Road Junction. I heard someone shout my name and turned around. I couldn’t believe my eyes. My dad was running towards me, in the heavy rain, with a, I wasn’t sure, worried expression on his face.

“Look out!” He shouted.

He ran towards me and pushed me hard. A strong light came from my left side.

It happened in an instant. He was lying in front of me, with a pool of blood escaping him. The scene was silent. The rain fell without sound to the ground, and I cried without sobs. My tears mixed with the blood and rain on the ground.

“I’m… sorry,” he whispered, smiling at me. “Let’s go… home… together…”

He simply closed his eyes.

I looked at that sad face, at those eyes that would never see daylight again, and felt that chest that no longer housed a beat. He was gone.

I, who had never admitted anything in my life, admitted defeat to the cruel skies above. Shouting my frustrations as I held him in my arms, feeling them go cold and wet, to whoever was up there. I never felt this feeling before in my life.

I finally understood. This was love. It was old, but it had its value. It was old, but it had a meaning.

It was then that I understood. He did love me. After all those years, I realized that he did love me. But it was too late. It was always too late.

I saw a pair of feet in high-heeled shoes approach the limp form on the ground. The rain stopped its assault on me and my dad. I looked up and saw a sobbing woman: mom.

3 years had passed. I lived with mom since… since that day.

Sometimes a person only understands the feelings of those close to him when they’re gone, when it’s too late.  A person’s heart always conceals the true love they have. Maybe showing the love so soon would not let others appreciate how precious it truly is.

The love he showed me was like Glass. I didn’t notice it at first, but I did eventually. I knew what he really wanted only when he was gone. The one thing I ever learned from him, the love that aged with him and had always been there…

I’ll never forget you, dad.