The story of Father's Day

父亲节的故事英文版

I can still remember clearly my great father, who has been away from us for more than 30 yrs, when I was only a teenager (about 13, if I'm not wrong).
He was tall (about 1.80cm), thin, showing all his ribs clear. He died at the age of 63, young enough according to our present judging criteria (the average life span is more than 70 now). He was outright, humorous and hardworking. As a boy, I often saw his sunburnt back (in summer as he liked to be upper naked), with which he set up a platform just like a large stage, for his six children, where we could live happily along with three plain meals a day but we six had a no worrying childhood.
He died of the lung disease. Because of the financial problem, Mother couldn't buy any expensive medicine for him, at that time only about 2.75 yuan per bottle, though, my family couldn' afford it steadily.
The last time I said goodbye to him was on a Sunday afternoon, when he was deadly ill, coughing all day with slight blood in his sputum. He was sitting in the kitchen, coughing and curling himself on the bench at the hearth, I was in a hurry to back to my school which was about 30 minutes' walk away from home. He asked me to cook his Chinese traditional medicine, as I was completely concerned about my backing to school on time, I refused him and went away, leaving Father himeself managing cooking the herbal medicine. That very week, I got the news while I was having my phsics lesson that Father passed away. I will feel ashamed and regretful even today when I remember this scene!!!
My father died like a hero. Before his death, he told my brothers and other people around him that he would choose a good time to stop his breath, ie, he would leave a splended departure moment to his family and all the neighbours, so he did! He died at 6:00 am, when exactly came the music from the broadcast (at that time every household owned a broadcast in the hall of their house), which would bring good fortune to his family in terms of religion in the countryside. Just hours before his death, he still talked and walked up and down the room, supported by other people, to have a last look at his home in this world. Two days before his forever departure he even ate up about one jin of pork at a meal. Therefore, whenever I go back to my home where I my father last breathed, I still can feel it's haunted by HIM, Father! It seems that he's still breathing somewhere in the house. Oh, MY DAD, I miss you... ... Where are you? DAD? Are you alright there?
Today I write to YOU, Father in heaven, as a very late gift. How I wish, you could still be with us now, telling me many instructive stories, comforting me when I'm in trouble, giving me your very big, warm and firm hand on my shoulder... ...
But all this gone, how I wish you could give me a good beat when I have done sth wrong. Gone all this like the wind and with the wind, but still all this in my mind, just like yesterday.
  
If I could bring my father back to life, I would do everything.
  
If I could still get help from my father, I would sacrifice anything.
  
If I could again hear your voice, I would spare nothing.
  
But still I can't get near you, where are you, DAD?