May you be on the other side and all the best

After five years of my father's absence, I can finally face it and calm down to write about the past.

I wasn't around when my father left. The last time I learned that my father was seriously ill, I stayed at home for 7 days, and on the seventh day, my father miraculously ate, after suffering from cancer cells in the esophagus, and had only been able to eat liquid food for a long time. That day, I actually ate a small half bowl of noodles. My mother said to me, "Your father will be fine for a while and a half, you can go back to the unit, you can't help but make contributions to the unit and always take leave to stay at home." No one knows that it is a return to the light. An hour after I got on the bus, I got a call and needed to go back.

When I stumbled home, an hour or forty minutes later, my father was lying on the mat in the hall, his eyes scattered. I didn't know that the pupil dilatation had been gone for a long time, thinking that the body was warm because it was still there. An uncle of the Ben family said loudly, "The girlfriend has arrived home, it is time to leave, and the road should be far from clear in a while", and then told me that my father waited for me for a long time until I returned. I knelt down and called out to my father, and my mother wouldn't let me, saying that people were on the road, and as soon as my relatives shouted, they got lost. I leaned against him, tears dripping down his face. I saw that he had that kind of plastic golden fish and sugar in his mouth, and I didn't know why he put such an object, but such a strange scene, a living person would not be like this, I knew that this was the yin and yang separation.

I looked at him, 186 tall, burly body still on the frame, three layers of new clothes inside and three layers outside, I could not see that he was already skinny. I was satisfied at that moment, thinking that such a full-looking warm dress should not be cold in any weather. The soles of his shoes are printed with strange patterns, delicate, and the soles are very thick, as if they are going to travel thousands of miles. I went back to his sickbed and knew that he must still be there, and the superstition said that the human soul would stay at home for seven days. I knew he must have something to say to me, I smelled the familiar smell of tumor bursting in the air, and I thought that the breath was there, the soul was there, and I should be able to talk to it. One afternoon, the family was coming in and out, I didn't have a lot of consciousness, I was waiting for someone who was gone.

After three days of guarding the spirit, the home of the blowing and beating was actually a little lively. My father and my mother quarreled all my life, and my two brothers and I never brought our classmates to play at home, so the family was deserted. At this time, there were many relatives and friends, and it was like a party. And I still feel like he'll show up, just not when there's a lot of people. Sure enough, after everyone had dispersed, an old clock in the house suddenly rang, rang for a long time, and at first no one knew what was making the sound, and then found that it was a dilapidated clock that had long since stopped turning, locked in his father's drawer for three years. I knew at that moment that we wouldn't have a chance to talk, and if we could, there wouldn't be a bell. It was night, I saw his figure, as usual countless times home, the 220-pound burly body strides into the door of the house. At that time, the wind was cold, the leaves in the yard were shaking, and I knew that I was the only one who saw it, and my heart was at peace, and I said silently, "Dad, you are home."

At the seventh time, the custom in the hometown is to take fire paper from the wall to support the souls of the deceased and send them into the hearse. The fire paper sticks to the wall to follow you, others can't stick to it, I hold it when it's good. I thought to myself, my father gave me face, I didn't have time to do a lot of filial piety in this life, and at this time I told everyone that I was a filial piety child.

I later thought countless times about what the last conversation looked like. He was too weak to speak, so I crouched down in front of his bed and looked at him. My mom said you can't get too close, otherwise you'll get sick. I ignored it, and I knew there wouldn't be a lot of time like that. Probably thinking I was squatting for too long, he said, "You go and rest." This sentence is commonplace, and later I learned that it was a trick.

My father was born almost 50 years old, and the most memories I remember sitting on my father's shoulders and spinning in circles, or holding him in a circle, or sitting on the tip of his toes, these dangling pictures are the warmth of my childhood. I was spoiled and developed into a pampered, timid, vulnerable character, and grew up to be the same. I can't change my fragile nature, I can't change my crying, but I don't have the tall and burly person to love me anymore. I sometimes wonder, knowing that I can't shelter for a long time, I can't avoid being lonely, is it not always in my arms, carrying it on my body, and holding it in my hand?

I always remember the first time I went to the hospital to see him, the label on his wrist said "Ca" (cancer), he said to me because he was illiterate, "I was so scared it was cancer, fortunately it wasn't";

Remembering the time when I was eating and feeding in the hospital, jasmine flowers bloomed on the branches, the aroma was slightly diffused, and the sunlight jumped on the windowsill;

Remembering his first chemotherapy, I was far away, the same feeling of headache and vomiting, heartbeat like just ran three kilometers;

Remembering the potion to be used for the third chemotherapy, twenty or thirty bottles, lying quietly in the refrigerator at home;

I remembered chasing the hearse carrying the body, and I couldn't stop the car and fell to the ground and saw the sky like fire...

My father was 47 when he gave birth to me and died at the age of 72. I have enjoyed many blessings in my life, and I have not suffered much sin. Even in the last days, there was no way to eat, and I still ate a full meal before leaving. I am a party member, a materialist, and prefer to believe in the soul in matters of love and separation. So that I am thirty years old, a person between heaven and earth, something feels like I can't go over, something starts to get better, I look up at the sky, some people say that after death, people are stars, I always feel that it is a cloud, sometimes it is also the wind, I see and feel it.

May you be on the other side and all the best.