小时候，我觉得他像一个门神。我清楚地记得6岁第一次挨打的情形。那是因为我看到小伙伴吃着冰棍，而爸妈都不在家，我偷偷地从抽屉里拿了5角钱去买根冰棒。爸爸知道后，狠狠地批评了我，随后给我两巴掌。我拼命地大哭着，心里只有一个“恨”字！“不就是5毛钱嘛！是不是我的亲爹？”平日里他对我的疼爱都抵不两个巴掌，我对他只能是敬而远之了。

还有一次，我跟同学说好了早上九点半去游乐园，我怕晚了让奶奶叫我。可是，第二天醒来，我睁开眼一看已经十点了。我忘记了年迈的奶奶根本就不会看表，愤怒地跑到她跟前，扯着她的衣服，大吼：“你为什么不叫我？你为什么不叫我？”这句话正好被刚进门的爸爸听到了，他走过来一把把我拽到他跟前：“你彼能这样对奶奶说话？有什么不能好好说？”虽然这次他没打我，但那因愤怒而变形的脸更让我害怕接近他了。

从此，我们父子俩有了一条无形的界限。

然而，随着年龄的增长，我发现爸爸是那么爱我，我对他渐渐发生了微妙的变化。

在我上三年级时，美术老师让我们下节课带小竹棍。怎么办呢？家里没有呀，放学我赶回家，焦急地对爸爸说：“老师让我们带竹棍，我们家里又没有，怎么办呀？”

“别着急，车到山前必有路！”说完，爸爸转身就走了。

吃过饭，我呆呆地坐在沙发上，哼！边管都不管我，算了，不去上学了。就在这时，传来了爸爸熟悉的声音：“儿子，快过来，看看这样的行不行？”我望着爸爸手中的青翠的竹棍，眼里一热：我错怪爸爸了！

“嗨，跑了好几家才找到呢！快点走吧！上学别迟到了！”边说爸爸边推出电动车要去送我。

“爸爸，我以前……对不起！”我吞吞吐吐地说。

“嗨！傻儿子，没什么呀！你永远都是我最可爱的儿子！”

呵呵，呵呵……我们父子俩的笑声回荡在空中。

哈哈，我爱你，老爸！

写父爱无声的作文篇2

父爱，是春天里的一缕阳光，和煦地照耀在我的身上;是夏日里的一丝凉风，吹散了我心中的烦热;是秋日里的一串串硕果，指引着我走向成功;是冬天里的一把火，温暖着我那颗冰冷的心。

记得五年级的期末时，大家都在紧张的复习之中，我却接到了一个任务——和其他7位同学参加“厦门市中小学生迎新春经典诵读比赛”，每天都要排练到下午六点才能回家。在紧张的期末总复习和紧张的排练的压迫下，我病倒了。

一天下午，正在我步履匆匆地赶回家时，我的身子开始发抖，上下牙不断打战，原来是发高烧了。回到家之后，爸爸发现了我的异样，二话不说就端来一盆热乎乎的热水，给我洗脚、泡脚，那时，我感到一股暖流涌遍全身，我感动得热泪盈眶。泡完脚，爸爸又将我扶到床上，为我拿来毛巾，擦拭我的手、脚、额头，好让我降温，不那么热。然后，爸爸哄着我，“孩子，睡吧，孩子，睡吧……”渐渐地，我进入了睡梦中，爸爸才悄悄地推开房门离开……

夜深了，爸爸也睡了，而我却在此时此刻醒来，发现自己嗓子灼痛，说不了话，我不由得流下了泪。“呜呜……”这时，我看见爸爸的房间里，一束微黄的灯光渐渐亮起，是爸爸起床查看了，“儿子，怎么了?”爸爸询问着，打开了灯。“我嗓子痛，很难受。”我用口形向爸爸表达着。爸爸“听”懂了我的话，不一会儿，爸爸手上端着一杯热气腾腾的白开水走进了房间。“儿子，快喝吧，再睡一觉就好了。”爸爸亲切的安慰着我，我不哭了，渐渐平静下来，安然入睡。

早晨起床，我喉咙还是灼痛着，连咽口口水都会痛。“儿子，快把西瓜霜含片吃了，嗓子会好一些。”爸爸说着，把西瓜霜含片放到我手中，喂我吃早餐。中午，爸爸仍在忙前忙后地照顾我……

以前，我总是感叹父亲太冷漠，对自己关心太少，现在才发现，事实并不是如此，一切只是自己没有一双发现美的眼睛。爸爸，谢谢你。

写父爱无声的作文篇3

自从我记事以来，就得到了家人们的无微不至的关怀。可数来数去，我是怎么也没有看到父亲对我的爱。为此，我常闷闷不乐，直到那天……

那天晚上，我带着得了全班第一的试卷一蹦一跳地走进家门，三步并作两步跨到爸爸面前，得意地递过试卷，把头仰得高高的准备接受表扬。可爸爸什么也没说，甚至连一点开心的神情也没有，随手翻了翻就去忙自己的了。我兴奋的火苗一下子被冷水泼得渣儿都不剩，像落汤鸡一样，灰溜溜地回到房间里了。

第二天放学后，我正准备把作业本装在书包里，突然发现书包里竟有一块未开封的巧克力。我环顾四周，没有发现可疑人物，又细细回想，也没想到没有谁动过我的书包。惊喜之余，我拆开包装，咬下一大块巧克力大快朵颐，甜甜的味道从喉咙一下子涌到了脚尖。以后的日子里，几乎每天我都可以在书包里翻到一块巧克力。把手伸进书包里，这几乎成了一种习惯。随着时间的推移，我也越来越好奇这些巧克力的来历。

终于有一天，在好奇心的驱使下，我决定把这个放巧克力的人查出来。天蒙蒙亮，我隐约听到客厅里有动静。我轻轻地翻下了床，顺着灯光，蹑手蹑脚地走到一个可以完全藏住我又不会被发现的地方。看准时机，我偷偷地瞄了一眼。那一刹那，我怔住了，是爸爸。我就像在做梦一样，狠狠地捏了一下大腿，嘶，好痛，这不是梦。我又使劲睁大了眼睛，不错，给我放巧克力的竟是从来没向我表达过爱的爸爸。我鼻子一下子变得酸酸的。

现在细细地回想一下，精心准备的早餐，送我上学的车，耐心的指点……都不都是对我的爱吗？

爸爸从来没有向我说过爱，却把厚爱倾注在种种行为中，像风儿一样环绕着我。那一块块巧克力，就是这份爱无声的证明。

写父爱无声的作文篇4

我小时候，父亲常常出差。生活在母亲和姥姥呵护下的我，便习惯了被人高捧在掌心的溺爱。对我而言，爱就是不让我受伤害，就是温馨，就是不变的甜蜜和幸福。而由于与父亲在一起的时间不多，我和父亲的感情平平淡淡。

7岁那年，父亲放假在家，买了一辆很漂亮的自行车。一直很想亲近父亲的我，便爽快地答应了父亲的要求——学车。为了不让母亲看到我练车，父亲特意把从没接触过自行车的我带到坡度很大的后山。那次训练真是带着斑斑血迹与泪痕。我这个一直被呵护的“瓷娃娃”摔得遍体鳞伤，耳中灌满了父亲冰冷的怒吼。我强忍住泪水，一次次支撑着站起来……我两天便学会了骑车，后来母亲含泪告诉我父亲真的很爱我时，稚嫩的我迷惑了——父爱，莫非就是狠?是冷酷?是残忍?

三年级到城里上学后，父亲每天都会骑几公里车接送我上学。听着父亲粗重的喘气声，伏在父亲宽阔而被汗水浸透了的背上，幼小的我突然有了种莫名的震撼和感动，喉咙哽住了。在那一瞬间，我第一次感觉到父亲是爱我的。

当我惭愧地告诉一直嘱咐我要保护眼睛的父亲，我近视了时，父亲微红的眼圈令我突然自责不已，我感觉到父亲对我的.担忧与怜惜；当我拿着满分试卷炫耀，触及到父亲严肃的目光时，我感受到父爱是警告，是让我免于触礁沉没的灯塔……一度以为父亲看我哪里都不顺眼，整日训斥我，而当回首自己那完全颠倒错乱的生活时，我意识到父爱是真正的关心，是真正为我未来着想的爱……

于是儿时对父亲的惧怕随着我的蓦然惊觉而烟消云散。父爱无声，温暖了我生命中的每一段旅程。读懂父爱，感激父亲，我的生命因父亲而闪耀光芒，因为父爱而绚丽多彩!

写父爱无声的作文篇5

总有一个人在我身旁默默地关心我，他虽然没有母亲的温柔，没有母爱般细腻，可是在我眼里父亲像一名歌手，出了无数版的专辑，每一张都是全新的，父亲不断以新的方式爱我，我就在这种默默的父爱的陪伴下走过了五彩的生活。

秋已逝去，送来的是赤骨的寒风，如同往日，每每星期一我都要坐车去上学。家里窗户尽管关着，可是还能够听见那嗖嗖的风声，院子里的桂花树早已凋谢，只留下了一些黄黄绿绿的叶子，在这阵风的折腾下，就连那仅存得叶子也没有了，剩下那光秃秃的树干立在那里。

丫头，快吃去父亲催促着。我望着窗外的景色，不经打了个寒颤，父亲似乎看出了我的心思。我背起书包，穿好鞋离开了这个温暖的小窝，丫头，等一下父亲捎来一条黑色的围巾挂在我脖子上衣服加了吗？小心冻着！他摸摸我的脑袋天气是凉了，学习不可耽搁，快走吧！我只是轻轻的哦了一声便离开了。当我走在小巷转角处时，不经意间看见了家门前那个熟悉的身影，他的手划过了一道美丽的弧线，我的眼泪流出眼眶，父爱——无声。

村落像一只安睡的小黑猫，停留在世界的角落，一处亮光就像是一个点缀，将村落显得更是宁静。

灯光下是我洒下的辛勤的汗水，笔尖在方格纸上跳动，笔走龙蛇，龙飞凤舞。忽然听见一阵金属碰撞声，接着是水流声，有大变小，钥匙插进锁孔磕嚓一声门悄然打开，接着又是一阵轻微的脚步声。我转过头去，是父亲，他看看书桌，整理了散落的密密麻麻的草稿纸，便亲切地说道：台灯开亮点，小心看坏了眼睛。他将台灯调了调，便离开了。我看见了床头柜上一碗正冒着热气的面条，我的眼泪再次不争气的落下，父爱——无声。

周末，由于因为第二天不用上课的缘故吧，我便盯着电视机，十点钟才上床睡觉。我碾转反侧，久久不成寐。到了大概十一二点的时候不知怎么回事，突然听见门响。我深怕是传说中的小偷，便声不敢做，大气不敢出。

突然一个熟悉而亲切的声音传入耳边：我深怕是传说中的小偷，便声不敢做，大气不敢出。突然只听见一个熟悉而亲切的声音：这丫头，每晚都爱打被子，不过幸好我每晚有这个耐心，帮她盖被子。大不了‘牺牲’一点我的睡眠吧！说完动了动我身上的被子，月光洒在父亲脸上，我看见他笑了，脸上绽开了春天，他轻轻的关上门，离开了。泪在眼眶里翻滚，父爱——无声。

父爱的主打歌无声着实让我感受到了父爱的伟傲与深沉我要将我奋斗的鲜花舒绽得更美，实现父爱的主打歌中所掩饰的那份期望。

写父爱无声的作文篇6

my father was a self-taught mandolin player. he was one of the best string instrument players in our town. he could not read music, but if he heard a tune a few times, he could play it. when he was younger, he was a member of a small country music band. they would play at local dances and on a few occasions would play for the local radio station. he often told us how he had auditioned and earned a position in a band that featured patsy cline as their lead singer. he told the family that after he was hired he never went back. dad was a very religious man. he stated that there was a lot of drinking and cursing the day of his audition and he did not want to be around that type of environment.

occasionally, dad would get out his mandolin and play for the family. we three children: trisha, monte and i, george jr., would often sing along. songs such as the tennessee waltz, harbor lights and around christmas time, the well-known rendition of silver bells. "silver bells, silver bells, its christmas time in the city" would ring throughout the house. one of dads favorite hymns was "the old rugged cross". we learned the words to the hymn when we were very young, and would sing it with dad when he would play and sing. another song that was often shared in our house was a song that accompanied the walt disney series: davey crockett. dad only had to hear the song twice before he learned it well enough to play it. "davey, davey crockett, king of the wild frontier" was a favorite song for the family. he knew we enjoyed the song and the program and would often get out the mandolin after the program was over. i could never get over how he could play the songs so well after only hearing them a few times. i loved to sing, but i never learned how to play the mandolin. this is something i regret to this day.

dad loved to play the mandolin for his family he knew we enjoyed singing, and hearing him play. he was like that. if he could give pleasure to others, he would, especially his family. he was always there, sacrificing his time and efforts to see that his family had enough in their life. i had to mature into a man and have children of my own before i realized how much he had sacrificed.

i joined the united states air force in january of 1962. whenever i would come home on leave, i would ask dad to play the mandolin. nobody played the mandolin like my father. he could touch your soul with the tones that came out of that old mandolin. he seemed to shine when he was playing. you could see his pride in his ability to play so well for his family.

when dad was younger, he worked for his father on the farm. his father was a farmer and sharecropped a farm for the man who owned the property. in 1950, our family moved from the farm. dad had gained employment at the local limestone quarry. when the quarry closed in august of 1957, he had to seek other employment. he worked for owens yacht company in dundalk, maryland and for todd steel in point of rocks, maryland. while working at todd steel, he was involved in an accident. his job was to roll angle iron onto a conveyor so that the welders farther up the production line would have it to complete their job. on this particular day dad got the third index finger of his left hand mashed between two pieces of steel. the doctor who operated on the finger could not save it, and dad ended up having the tip of the finger amputated. he didnt lose enough of the finger where it would stop him picking up anything, but it did impact his ability to play the mandolin.

after the accident, dad was reluctant to play the mandolin. he felt that he could not play as well as he had before the accident. when i came home on leave and asked him to play he would make excuses for why he couldnt play. eventually, we would wear him down and he would say "okay, but remember, i cant hold down on the strings the way i used to" or "since the accident to this finger i cant play as good". for the family it didnt make any difference that dad couldnt play as well. we were just glad that he would play. when he played the old mandolin it would carry us back to a cheerful, happier time in our lives. "davey, davey crockett, king of the wild frontier", would again be heard in the little town of bakerton, west virginia.

in august of 1993 my father was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. he chose not to receive chemotherapy treatments so that he could live out the rest of his life in dignity. about a week before his death, we asked dad if he would play the mandolin for us. he made excuses but said "okay". he knew it would probably be the last time he would play for us. he tuned up the old mandolin and played a few notes. when i looked around, there was not a dry eye in the family. we saw before us a quiet humble man with an inner strength that comes from knowing god, and living with him in ones life. dad would never play the mandolin for us again. we felt at the time that he wouldnt have enough strength to play, and that makes the memory of that day even stronger. dad was doing something he had done all his life, giving. as sick as he was, he was still pleasing others. dad sure could play that mandolin!

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写父爱无声的作文6篇