It'shardto talk to dads sometimes. The roles we often expect our fathers to play—protector, provider—can make them seem impenetrable(不可理解的).That's how it was with mydad. He came to Canada at the age of ten and settled in an immigrant community. He was never much of a talker. He rarely drank, so we didn't get to see him loosen up after a few beers. He didn't tellstoriesabout himself at the dinner table or when we went for walks in the park. He was a private person and seemed to want to stay that way.
Bringing up the many questions I had about life before I was born—his early hopes and dreams, loves and heartbreaks—let alonesharingmy own feelings, felt like too much for us to handle. I didn't want to threaten the integrity(完整)of his hard shell. I had gotten used to it，and it made me feel secure.
But when my relationship andcareertook a hit a year ago at the same time, things had to change. I wasfacingserious questions about my own nature, and I wanted to know that he had faced them, too. I needed to know how he had found his way, because I felt like I had lost mine.
In a severe moment of desperation, it occurred to me thatsendingan email might be the key. An email can be crafted(精心制作)slowly andcarefully. I could speak at a comfortable distance and give him room to adjust. He'd be up in his office—a comfortable place filled with bookshelves, dusty CD-ROMs and piles of old newspapers. I'd be at my desk in an apartment 20 minutes away.
So I wrote to him. I told him about my regrets andfears, and I asked him to answer, if he felt like it, and to share something about himself, something that would give me much-neededperspectiveon my life, especially on relationship and career.
Para 1:Two weeks later, his response showed up in my email box.
Para 2:I closed the email and started to cry.
