Contrast

Relationships are quite different for Chinese and Americans. Although the origins and the results of love can be the same, people have different ways to express their love. The father in The Glass Castle and my father both build castles for their beloved princesses, however, one is glass and one is solid.

First of all, essentially, our fathers are quite different for they have different backgrounds.

My father is well-educated in university and believes in science while Jeannette's father knows nothing about science, "Your mother should have taken you to that witch doctor the day you got burned,not to these heads-up-their-asses med-school quacks."Rex even despises science.

Both Jeannette and I spent time in the hospital as children. While my father went to every corner of the city to find the best medicine for me, Jeannette's father "saved" her by checking her out of the hospital in a Rex Walls-style.

My father is gentle and polite, but Jeannette's father is quite violent. "Dad stared at the doctor (quote?) and said that" I wasn't the only one who was going to walk out of there scarred." Jeannette's father is a bad guy, however, he doesn't fake his genuine love for his daughter. And Jeannette still loves her father although he behaves in such a coarse way, "I breathed in his familiar smell of Vitalis, whiskey, and cigarette smoke. It reminded me of home." For my father, he only drinks when he has to do so and he never smokes a cigarette. He teaches me to be polite and well-behaved by doing so himself. He shows me how to be grateful to someone who saved my life, to be considerate, and to be tolerant to others. He is my hero who knows everything and is always helpful. Jeannette's father is also her hero because he cares about her, unlike her cold careless mom, although he does bad things.

Second, their ways of caring about their treasure are different, maybe because of their different cultures.

My father cares about me so much that he protects me from every danger even it's not severe at all. He used to come to my room to see if I was back safe every day in my childhood. He once took me to 3 hospitals because I was having a high fever and wouldn't recover. He forbids me doing so many risky things which are quite attractive for me because I am always curious. Maybe that's because he is a typical traditional Chinese father who is very conservative and cautious.

And that's totally opposite for Jeannette's father. He even "thought I should face down my enemy" and "showed me how to pass my finger through a candle flame."This is not necessarily strange for a child. But for someone who has just recovered from a life-threatening burn, it can be so dangerous. On one hand, Jeannette may get burned again. On the other, this may help her become a brave girl and overcome her bad past experience. Maybe Americans are always independent and are ready for adventures. Being protected so well is not always a good thing. It makes me lose a chance to build my own fence. To some extent, I envy Jeannette who can enjoy exploring the world by herself instead of being told what to do all the time.

In a nutshell, because of different backgrounds and different cultures, our fathers' ways to love their daughters vary. Maybe my father builds a more solid castle to prevent me from being hurt, but Jeannette's father builds a glass castle where Jeannette can see the world by herself. However, different ways lead to the same destination--their love are all from the deepest part of their hearts. Love is universally the same.

My Love-hate Relationship with my Father

The yellow dim light surrounding the door became wider and brighter. I could recognize the weaving shape of my father, poking his head into my room. After confirming I was back home and asleep, he must have smiled, satisfied and relieved, then walked staggering to his bed.

This happened every night when I was a child. Dad would come to my room to see if I was back safe and sound and asleep. Sometimes he had to drink a lot at his business dinners and forgot everything except coming to my room to see me. There was always a strong and tall shape guarding my door in my dreams.

My father has always been my hero, who gave all he could to build a castle for his princess. He sent me to the best school in our community and provided me a great growing environment. He even spent a lot of money to rent a house near my high school to make it easier for me to study there. Every day I could walk to school within five minutes, which was a huge source of envy to my classmates. And it contributed to my grades indirectly, which I also appreciated a lot.

Every weekend was the most exciting part of my childhood when I was young. Because my parents were both busy during work days, my father would try his best to spare a day or more to be with me on weekends. His employees could never imagine their serious boss wearing an apron in the kitchen cooking carefully and enjoyably. If time allowed, he loved to cook for his beloved daughter. He enjoyed my delighted face when I tasted it. Although it was just simple food, I miss it a lot now.

His love was genuine and direct. And I loved him back fully. 

I tried my best on studies so he would be happy and proud of me. I did every thing he liked. 

However, his love sometimes made me feel guilty and afraid. Sometimes it seemed I was the whole world to him, and that kind of love was so heavy to a little girl. I still remember when I was badly ill in my third grade of high school, he worried about me so much. I had a high fever for one week and lost my appetite. His face was like the heavy dark sky before rain.   He wouldn't eat unless I ate something.

I know he cared about me too much. Actually I appreciated it a lot, but I was also heart-broken to hurt him. 

I had to do things I didn't like at all. His love is so controlling  that it leaves no space for me.

He decided my major, chose what I should wear, taught me how to behave well in front of others. And although most of time he was right because he was really wise and experienced, it still made me feel bad because I lost the chance to form my own ideas and make my own decisions. I just became what he wanted me to become. And although I seemed fine outside, there was always freedom yelling inside me.

I was trapped in the dilemma. 

One part of me wants to be independent, wants to live my own life. The other part loves my father no less than he loves me and doesn't want to hurt him. As I grow up and gradually have my own thoughts, the dilemma becomes harder and harder. It's hurting to do things I don't like, but it's also hurting to let my father down. It's always hard to find a balance between responsibility and freedom.