Words from a Father 愛在無語時(shí)
Words from a Father 愛在無語時(shí)
◎ Razib
In the doorway of my home, I looked closely at the face of my 23-year-old son, Daniel, his backpack by his side. We were saying goodbye. In a few hours he would be flying to France. He would be staying there for at least a year to learn another language and experience life in a different country.
在家門口，我凝視著23歲的兒子丹尼爾的臉，他的背包就放在身旁。幾個(gè)小時(shí)之后我們即將道別，他就要飛往法國(guó)。他將在那里待上至少一年的時(shí)間學(xué)習(xí)另一種語言，體驗(yàn)另一個(gè)國(guó)度的生活。
It was a transitional time in Daniel’s life, a passage, a step from college into the adult world. I wanted to leave him some words that would have some meaning, some significance beyond the moment.
這是丹尼爾生命中的一個(gè)過渡時(shí)期，也是他從象牙塔進(jìn)入成人世界踏出的一步。我希望送給他幾句話，幾句能讓他受用終身的話語。
But nothing came from my lips. No sound broke the stillness of my beachside home. Outside, I could hear the shrill cries of sea gulls as they circled the ever changing surf on Long Island. Inside, I stood frozen and quiet, looking into the searching eyes of my son.
但我竟一句話也說不出來。我們的房子坐落在海邊，此刻屋里一片靜寂。屋外，海鷗在波濤澎湃的長(zhǎng)島海域上空盤旋，我能聽見它們的聲聲尖叫。我就這樣冷冷地站在屋里，默默地注視著兒子那雙困惑的眼睛。
What made it more difficult was that I knew this was not the first time I had let such a moment pass. When Daniel was five, I took him to the school-bus stop on his first day of kindergarten. I felt the tension in his hand holding mine as the bus turned the corner. I saw color flush his cheeks as the bus pulled up. He looked at me—as he did now.
更糟的是，我知道自己已經(jīng)不是第一次讓如此重要的時(shí)光白白流逝。丹尼爾5歲的時(shí)候，那是他上幼兒園的第一天，我領(lǐng)著他來到校車的停車點(diǎn)。當(dāng)校車轉(zhuǎn)過街角出現(xiàn)時(shí)，他的小手緊緊地攥著我，我感覺到了他的緊張。校車到站的那一刻，丹尼爾雙頰發(fā)紅，抬頭望著我——就像現(xiàn)在這樣。
What is it going to be like, Dad? Can I do it? Will I be okay? And then he walked up the steps of the bus and disappeared inside. And the bus drove away. And I had said nothing.
“爸爸，接下來會(huì)怎樣呢？我能行么？我會(huì)很好嗎？”說著，他上了校車，消失在我的視線里。車開走了，我卻始終開不了口。
A decade or so later, a similar scene played itself out. With his mother, I drove him to William and Mary College in Virginia. His first night, he went out with his new schoolmates, and when he met us the next morning, he was sick. He was coming down with mononucleosis, but we could not know that then. We thought he had a hangover.
十多年后，這一幕再次上演。我和妻子開車送他到維吉尼亞州的威廉瑪麗學(xué)院讀書。在學(xué)校的第一個(gè)晚上，丹尼爾和他的新同學(xué)一起外出。第二天清晨，再見到他時(shí)，他病了。其實(shí)他當(dāng)時(shí)已經(jīng)染上了單核細(xì)胞增多癥，但我們并不知道那件事，以為他只是有點(diǎn)不舒服而已。
In his room, Dan lay stretched out on his bed as I started to leave for the trip home. I tried to think of something to say to give him courage and confidence as he started this new phase of life.
我準(zhǔn)備啟程回家時(shí)，丹尼爾正在宿舍的床上躺著。我很想說一些鼓勵(lì)的話語，在他開始這份新生活時(shí)，給他一些勇氣和信心。
Again, words failed me. I mumbled something like, “Hope you feel better, Dan.” And I left.
但是，我再一次語塞。我只是咕噥了一句：“希望你快點(diǎn)好起來，丹尼爾。”然后就轉(zhuǎn)身離開了。
Now, as I stood before him, I thought of those lost opportunities. How many times have we all let such moments pass? A boy graduates from school, a daughter gets married. We go through the motions of the ceremony, but we don’t seek out our children and find a quiet moment to tell them what they have meant to us. Or what they might expect to face in the years ahead.
此時(shí)此刻，當(dāng)我站在他面前，我想起了那些錯(cuò)過的時(shí)刻。究竟有多少次，我們讓這些珍貴的時(shí)刻白白溜走？?jī)鹤拥漠厴I(yè)典禮，女兒的婚禮等等。我們疲于應(yīng)付這些熱鬧的場(chǎng)面，卻沒有在人群中抓住我們的孩子，找個(gè)安靜的地方，親口說出他們對(duì)我們有多么重要，或者與他們聊聊未來的挑戰(zhàn)和人生的期望。
How fast the years had passed. Daniel was born in New Orleans, LA., in 1962, slow to walk and talk, and small of stature. He was the tiniest in his class, but he developed a warm, outgoing nature and was popular with his peers. He was coordinated and agile, and he became adept in sports.
時(shí)光飛逝，歲月如梭。1962年，小丹尼爾出生于洛杉磯新奧爾良市。他學(xué)會(huì)走路和說話要比同齡人稍遲一些，個(gè)子也長(zhǎng)得不高。但是，盡管丹尼爾是班里最瘦小的一個(gè)，但他的性格熱情外向，在同學(xué)中人緣頗佳。由于協(xié)調(diào)性好，動(dòng)作敏捷，他很快就成了運(yùn)動(dòng)高手。
Baseball gave him his earliest challenge. He was an outstanding pitcher in Little League, and eventually, as a senior in high school, made the varsity, winning half the team’s games with a record of five wins and two losses. At graduation, the coach named Daniel the team’s most valuable player. His finest hour, though, came at a school science fair. He entered an exhibit showing how the circulatory system works. It was primitive and crude, especially compared to the fancy, computerized, blinking-light models entered by other students. My wife, Sara, felt embarrassed for him.
棒球是丹尼爾人生的第一項(xiàng)挑戰(zhàn)。他是棒球隊(duì)里出色的投手。高三的時(shí)候，丹尼爾帶領(lǐng)學(xué)校棒球隊(duì)所向披靡，創(chuàng)下了七局五勝的記錄。在畢業(yè)典禮上，棒球教練宣布他為球隊(duì)里的最有價(jià)值球員。然而，丹尼爾最輝煌的時(shí)刻卻是在一次校園科技展上。丹尼爾帶著他的循環(huán)電路系統(tǒng)參加了這次展覽。與其他參展學(xué)生的那些新奇怪異、電腦操控、熠熠發(fā)光的模型相比，丹尼爾的作品相形見絀。我的妻子莎拉都感到有些尷尬。
It turned out that the other kids had not done their own work—their parents had made their exhibits. As the judges went on their rounds, they found that these other kids couldn’t answer their questions. Daniel answered every one. When the judges awarded the Albert Einstein Plaque for the best exhibit, they gave it to him.
后來我們才知道，其他孩子的作品并不是自己完成的，而是父母代勞的。當(dāng)評(píng)委在現(xiàn)場(chǎng)評(píng)審的時(shí)候，他們發(fā)現(xiàn)這些孩子都對(duì)參展作品一無所知，無法回答他們的問題，只有丹尼爾對(duì)答如流。于是，他們把本次展覽的最佳作品獎(jiǎng)?lì)C給了丹尼爾，并授予他艾伯特·愛因斯坦獎(jiǎng)牌。
By the time Daniel left for college he stood six feet tall and weighed 170 pounds. He was muscular and in superb condition, but he never pitched another inning, having given up baseball for English literature. I was sorry that he would not develop his athletic talent, but proud that he had made such a mature decision.
丹尼爾剛進(jìn)大學(xué)時(shí)已經(jīng)是個(gè)身高六尺、重一百七十磅的堂堂男子漢了。自從放棄棒球而選擇英國(guó)文學(xué)后，肌肉結(jié)實(shí)、身體強(qiáng)壯的丹尼爾就再?zèng)]打過棒球了。我為他放棄了自己的體育特長(zhǎng)感到遺憾，但更為他做出如此慎重的決定感到驕傲。
One day I told Daniel that the great failing in my life had been that I didn’t take a year or two off to travel when I finished college. This is the best way, to my way of thinking, to broaden oneself and develop a larger perspective on life. Once I had married and begun working, I found that the dream of living in another culture had vanished.
有一次，我告訴丹尼爾，我一生中最大的失誤就是，大學(xué)剛畢業(yè)時(shí)沒能抽出一兩年的時(shí)間出游旅行。在我看來，旅行是開拓視野、形成豁達(dá)人生觀的最好的方式。而當(dāng)我成家工作以后，我發(fā)現(xiàn)，體驗(yàn)異國(guó)文化的夢(mèng)想已經(jīng)煙消云散了。
Daniel thought about this. His friends said that he would be insane to put his career on hold. But he decided it wasn’t so crazy. After graduation, he worked as a waiter at college, a bike messenger and a house painter. With the money he earned, he had enough to go to Paris.
聽了這番話后，丹尼爾若有所思。丹尼爾的朋友告誡他說，為了游歷世界而把事業(yè)擱在一邊，這是非常愚蠢的瘋狂行為。但丹尼爾并不認(rèn)同。畢業(yè)后，他曾在大學(xué)校園端盤子，騎單車送報(bào)紙，還替人刷過墻。通過打工掙錢，他攢足了去巴黎的路費(fèi)。
The night before he was to leave, I tossed in bed. I was trying to figure out something to say. Nothing came to mind. Maybe, I thought, it wasn’t necessary to say anything.
丹尼爾離開的前一晚上，我在床上輾轉(zhuǎn)難眠。我想準(zhǔn)備好明天要說的話，但腦袋里卻一片空白。也許根本就無須說什么，我安慰自己。
What does it matter in the course of a life-time if a father never tells a son what he really thinks of him? But as I stood before Daniel, I knew that it does matter. My father and I loved each other. Yet, I always regretted never hearing him put his feelings into words and never having the memory of that moment. Now, I could feel my palms sweat and my throat tighten. Why is it so hard to tell a son something from the heart? My mouth turned dry, and I knew I would be able to get out only a few words clearly.
即使一位父親一輩子都不曾親口告訴兒子自己對(duì)他的看法，那又如何？然而，當(dāng)我面對(duì)著丹尼爾，我知道這非常重要。我愛我的父親，他也愛我。但我從未聽他說過什么心里話，更沒有這些感人的回憶。為此，我總是心懷遺憾?，F(xiàn)在，我能感覺到自己手心冒汗，喉嚨也在打結(jié)。為什么對(duì)兒子說幾句心里話這么困難？我的嘴巴變得干澀，我想我頂多能夠清晰地吐出幾個(gè)字而已。
“Daniel,” I said, “if I could have picked, I would have picked you.”
“丹尼爾，”我終于擠出了一句，“如果上帝讓我選擇誰是我的兒子，我始終會(huì)選你。”
That’s all I could say. I wasn’t sure he understood what I meant. Then he came toward me and threw his arms around me. For a moment, the world and all its people vanished, and there was just Daniel and me in our home by the sea.
這是我說的唯一一句話。我不知道丹尼爾是否理解了這句話，但他撲過來伸出胳膊抱住了我。那一刻，整個(gè)世界都消失了，只剩下我和丹尼爾站在海邊的小屋里。
He was saying something, but my eyes misted over, and I couldn’t understand what he was saying. All I was aware of was the stubble on his chin as his face pressed against mine. And then, the moment ended. I went to work, and Daniel left a few hours later with his girlfriend.
丹尼爾也在說著什么，但淚水已經(jīng)模糊了我的雙眼，我一個(gè)字也沒聽進(jìn)去。當(dāng)他的臉緊貼著我時(shí)，我感覺到了他下巴的胡子楂。然后，一切恢復(fù)原樣。我繼續(xù)工作，丹尼爾幾個(gè)小時(shí)后帶著女友離開了。
That was seven weeks ago, and I think about him when I walk along the beach on weekends. Thousands of miles away, somewhere out past the ocean waves breaking on the deserted shore, he might be scurrying across Boulevard Saint German, strolling through a musty hallway of the Louvre, bending an elbow in a Left Bank Cafe.
七個(gè)星期過去了。周末在海邊散步時(shí)，我會(huì)想起丹尼爾。幾千英里之外的某個(gè)地方，橫跨這個(gè)荒蕪海岸的茫茫大海，丹尼爾也許正飛奔著穿越圣熱蒙大道，或者漫步在盧浮宮散發(fā)著霉味的走廊上，又或者正托著下巴，坐在左岸咖啡館里憩息。
What I had said to Daniel was clumsy and trite. It was nothing. And yet, it was everything.
我對(duì)丹尼爾說的那些話，既晦澀又老套，空洞無文。然而，它卻道出了一切。
