Essay I. Written in front of his father's grave

Text/Zhang Fuxian Photo/From the Internet

Father:

Hello.

It's time for the Spring Festival to worship the ancestors again, I stand in front of your grave, look at the grave of the barren grass, light a strange paper money for you, offer a table of sacrifices I bought for you, and bring you your favorite liquor. Thinking of your old appearance, thinking of your amiableness, thinking of your kindness and kindness, and thinking that I will never see you again, I can't help but burst into tears.

Forty years later, you have gone to the distant kingdom of heaven, never to return, and your children and grandchildren will never find any trace of you, leaving me with only a heart-rending pain standing in front of your grave in the sound of hunting and hunting. Young and prosperous, you died silently on that dark summer night, leaving the young me and your lonely mother from now on, why don't you let us cut off our liver and intestines?

Forty years on, I can no longer pick up the bits and pieces of your love for me. Your grandson has returned from Tai'an, and I stand at the door of the house, waiting for his safe return. The adopted son knows the grace of his parents! I suddenly woke up to the fact that the love you and your mother have for me is also like my love for my son, holding it in the palm of my hand for fear of falling, and in the saliva and afraid of melting, the parents of the world, generally with heart!

I want to sit next to you and listen to your teachings, even if I can bring you another glass of water. After your death, I struggled alone in the sea of people, and now, although I have achieved nothing in the year of destiny, I also think: when I go home, I can see your smiling face; when I go out, I can hear your ding- and ding; when I am sick, I can read your concerns; and in the days of depression, I can feel your love. I deeply experienced the profound meaning of "filial piety, not waiting", which is an unforgettable pain.

Before coming to see you, I went back to the old home. After years of disrepair, old houses that had collapsed had been bulldozed by bulldozers; weeds were everywhere in the yard, and clusters of bamboo had settled in the yard; the plane trees planted by the brother had become towering trees, standing alone in the hunting wind. There are traces of you in the old courtyard, there is your shadow in the old house, and now you and your mother have passed away. The parents are there, the home is still there; when the parents die, so is the home. But now, even the old home, the last memorial, has disappeared without a trace, which really hurts my heart.

After this year, I will step into the threshold of fifty years old, life is so beautiful, society is so generous, the people around me are still mostly good people, I have helped others, others have also helped me, wife and son filial piety, their happiness and harmony, contented people are always happy! My days are still comfortable. Don't worry about me in heaven, I'm all right!

In the past 40 years, science and technology have progressed, the economy has taken off, and life has changed with each passing day. Mobile phones have entered thousands of households, take the supermarket, buy things without RMB, but pay with mobile phones, even the developed countries in the West are out of reach, can only look at us and sigh.

An epidemic is rolling over the earth, and it will eventually disappear into silence. During the pandemic, the cost of treatment was fully reimbursed by the state – something that no country in the world, no political party, could do. We are content and grateful!

If you are still alive, you should be 90 years old now, the living conditions are better now, you are old and you are no longer there, you are like a ploughing cow that has fallen to the ground, leaving behind you a piece of fertile land, and your children have deep regret for you.

You are a member of the Communist Party, and I know that you are always concerned about the development of the country and the lives of the people, and it is only after you that you have told you a lot. Ask father to pray for us in heaven, and may father rest in peace under the nine springs!

Son: Blessed

Before the Lunar New Year in 2022

About author:Zhang Fuxian, formerly known as Zhang Huifeng, is a geography teacher at Chengwu Bole No.1 Middle School in Shandong Province. Use poetry to record the joys and sorrows of life, use words to describe the good, evil, beauty and ugliness of the world; good reading, love calligraphy, to praise the true feelings of the world, to say all the unfairness of the world. He is a contracted writer of Chinese original novels, who has written the novella "Auspicious and His Partners", as well as short stories, miniature novels, essays, and poems, totaling millions of words, and his works are scattered on various online platforms.

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