Qingming's most painful mourning
In this year's Qingming, due to the epidemic prevention and control, I could not go to the spiritual hall of my hometown to see my old father. I can't get close to his thin body and listen to the teachings of the old man; I can't go near an old man who is always smiling and kind, and light a cigarette for him; I can't kneel next to an old man full of kindness and love and pour him an old wine... My old father, in what way will I express my inner thoughts and pain at this moment?
My father was on the quiet hill of his hometown, alone guarding a territory several meters square. He was accompanied by sunrises and sunsets every day, wind and rain, cold and heat, and a small pine tree growing in front of the grave.
The paper ashes turned into white butterflies, and the blood and tears stained into red cuckoos. Every year during the Qingming Festival, I come to see him and bring him flowers, fruits and vegetables, dishes, tea and wine. Talk to him, talk to him about the changes in his hometown and our lives and work, help him remove the messy weeds around the grave, and clean the whole grave clean.
It's been eight years since my father left, and in this ups and downs of eight years, I have no way of knowing how far you have come? There's no way to know what you're thinking or doing right now. In every tear-soaked dream, I always see you standing on the balcony of your old home's mud house in the same posture, walking back and forth, talking and laughing.
That morning eight years ago, at the door of a hospital in Quanzhou City, you cried out in utter pain, which intimidated my soul. The moment I came back to God, you were gone, with the pain of years, far away. The look you had before you left, like a sharp knife, was deeply rooted in the most vulnerable place in my heart.
No one wants to accept this reality, but no one can change this reality. Time is a cruel whip that whips our bodies and souls from time to time. The years do not understand sadness, but sorrow is our scaly body and tears on our cheeks.
I almost lost my square inch, and my head went blank. How merciless and terrifying the world was to me at this time, the sound of choking solidified into a mess, tightly blocking my throat and even the entire mouth, the tears could express the sadness that could not be expressed in the heart, and my sorrow was weak like a helpless ant in the face of this cruel reality, confused and panicked under the torment of the hot sun, and could only obediently let the hand of time knead it!
A child who has lost his father's love is like a small boat in the sea that has lost its course, drifting with the wind, allowing the waves to rage mercilessly, regardless of the west and the east, I really don't know where my harbor is.
I knew that I would never hear a single word from my father again, and I would never have the opportunity to make a cup of tea, pour a pot of wine, or light a cigarette for my father. In my formative years, my father was a banner, a direction, a mere object to whom he could announce good news or complain to him. From now on, I will not see the flag, I will lose my way, to whom will all my joys and sorrows be told?
The first half of his father's life was soaked in bitter water, he experienced a difficult childhood, experienced the most unforgettable three years of natural disasters in Chinese history, and experienced chilling and bumpy years. However, the stubborn father not only survived the pain and suffering, but also supported a large group of his children with his strength. It is admirable that in those hungry years, he did everything in his power to raise his children to school as much as possible, which was simply an incredible feat.
Later, we grew up, and we all had a job of our own, and we all started a family. At this time, I found that my father's face gradually showed a happy smile.
However, his father, who had been industrious all his life, was not calm, and he could not be persuaded and threw himself into the public welfare undertakings of the countryside without hesitation, saying that he would make even a small contribution to changing the face of his hometown with his own meager efforts.
He is busier than before, running day and night on the bumpy road of public welfare in his hometown, raising funds, mobilizing his neighbors, and seeking development. Kung Fu pays off, and sincerity can always touch the heavens. Thanks to his efforts, a stone bridge was built on the only sheep gut trail in his hometown to the outside world; the first primary school in the history of his hometown finally had a school building. Soon, the hometown was finally electrified, and the kerosene lamps passed down from generation to generation became history. And so on, so that a remote and poor mountain village that is "known as" a bird does not lay eggs can finally slowly connect with the "outside world".
Our hometown is becoming richer step by step, and we are getting stronger and stronger day by day, but my father's body is slowly collapsing. Due to malnutrition and excessive hunger in the early days, and even more due to the later running fatigue and mental exhaustion, he finally collapsed and collapsed on the hospital bed, very helpless and very helpless. He has always been unyielding to fate, but he cannot fight the ravages of the disease. He was bent on building his hometown to perfection, but God ruthlessly terminated his actions.
Father was gone, walking a little unwillingly, walking in a hurry. But I think my father should have walked very calmly and very comfortably. Because, his life is frank and frank, his contribution to his hometown is engraved in people's hearts, and the example he sets for future generations will eventually become a great monument, towering in people's hearts.
This Qingming Festival, this damn epidemic, cruelly deprived me of the opportunity to be close to my father once a year, and cruelly snuffed out my desire to think day and night. Old father under the Nine Springs, what method should I use to heal this deep wound in my heart?!
——Nan Tianyi Sword 20220411