My uncle died.
I got the news of my uncle's death at around 10:00 a.m. on January 7, 2021, when I was with my father at the Shandong Provincial Third Courtyard.
I arrived at the hospital at ten o'clock the night before.
At about 10:00 a.m. on the 7th, my uncle's brother called and said that his uncle had left at eleven o'clock the night before, and this was my fourth uncle. My fourth uncle is the third in line, why is it called the fourth uncle, the reason I don't know, anyway, it is shouted from small to large.
About half a month before, I had seen my uncle's brother in the hospital, who had come to visit my father, who had fallen from a height during the construction of the construction site, fell down at a height of four or five meters, injured his cervical spine, and was paralyzed in bed for almost two months.
After the uncle's brother Yong arrived and spoke for an hour, he hurried home.
A few days later, I went back to my hometown, I planned to visit my fourth uncle, and discussed it with my sister, afraid that the fourth uncle would learn that my father's illness was exacerbating his own illness, so I did not even see the last side of my uncle.
The next day, on January 8th, I hurried to my home at the Jinan Provincial Third Hospital.
In the past few days, just in time for the cold tide of the whole country, the temperature in Shandong has dropped to minus eighteen or nineteen degrees, and the wind on the road is whizzing, almost freezing people into ice.
After I got home, I went to the eldest mother's house to consult how the funeral should be handled, because I was not very familiar with the things in the village, especially I did not know how to handle such a funeral.
These customs, these people come and go, young people who are far away from rural life, I am afraid that few people can know.
Because my mother had been absent for many years and my father was hospitalized in the hospital, I had full authority to handle this funeral.
Asked the eldest bride, the eldest bride said: Your mother is gone, just a few of your pro-big bride's family people go on the line, the near branches in the courtyard will not go, you are not often at home, the near branches in the courtyard can not shout at you, they do not go to count.
I followed the advice of the eldest mother, and one of my second uncle's brothers and sisters-in-law and the fifth uncle plus my object, plus my children, a total of six people, went to the uncle's house in the next village to mourn.
Because I was afraid that I was late and would not be able to return to the city, I picked up my child at school early and went with me.
When I passed the door of my grandmother's house, I saw my grandmother walking out inside, walking with one hand and wiping her eyes with the other hand.
We said in the car that we wouldn't go down and say hello to her. We all thought that my grandmother didn't know about the death of my fourth uncle, and the whole village should be hiding it from her. Because she is too old, she is 89 years old.
We drove past the car and ignored Grandma.
The location of my uncle's house was about 3:50, the sky was still bright, it was the wind that blew bone, from childhood to adulthood, I lived for thirty years and did not feel that the wind was so piercing.
We parked our car on the street.
I originally thought that there would be a lot of folk neighbors standing on the street. But when I stepped out of the car, I found that there were only two or three people scattered on the street outside.
Probably because it was too cold.
There is also a slight relationship with the current acceleration of urbanization, many young people are not in the village at all, and the remaining children in the village are basically left-behind children and widows and the elderly.
When he got out of the car and came to the alley at the door of the fourth uncle's house, the fifth uncle said: You go in crying.
When I was a child, I had only seen others crying and mourning in the village, and it was the first time I had gone to a relative's house to mourn. But it is not okay not to cry mourning, I thought again, the rural people are most worried about the face of this kind of funeral. So I cried a few times in the alley I went in: my uncle, my uncle.
Crying, crying, came to the uncle's yard, originally thought that there would be a lot of near branches in the courtyard to help, did not think that in addition to the uncle's sons, grandchildren, nephews and second uncles, there are only a few sporadic help in the courtyard, not because of human feelings, maybe today is too cold, minus 18 degrees, maybe the funeral is simple.
My fourth uncle was a tofu seller, and when I was a child, I lived in my uncle's house, and my uncle always gave me a bowl of soy milk after getting up in the morning to grind beans.
Think about when you were a child, it was the most beautiful time, when my mother was there, my uncle was there, my grandmother was there, my grandfather was there, and all my sons were there, and they were happy.
When I grew up, the relatives around me gradually moved away from the hustle and bustle of the world, and the other adults in the village who watched me grow up gradually passed away.
I began to run around the social work, the life of the city, and gradually the familiar villagers and village affairs became blurred, but the memories of my childhood were never forgotten.
The fourth uncle is a man of great honesty and honesty, and in my childhood impression, he has always been selling water tofu and shredded tofu until he got sick. No one ever thought that when they were old, they would get lung cancer.
The last time I saw my fourth uncle was in September.
Long-term travel, the opportunity to meet relatives is really too few. If there is no incident, it is basically a New Year's Eve meeting.
The society is wonderful now, but it has also become more lonely.
People are lonely.
I came to the mat in the courtyard and prostrated my head four times, cried a few times, and was pulled up by the "prime minister" in charge.
In front of the mat is the portrait of the fourth uncle, I don't know whether it was before the illness or after the illness, because before the illness, his face was also so emaciated.
Looking at the portrait of the fourth uncle, thinking about the life of a person, it is so short.
Look at the sunset shining obliquely on my face, a touch of sunlight that has exhausted all the fragrance.
I brought up all the memories of my fourth uncle from childhood to adulthood, and the memories of this yard.
I also recalled playing in this yard when I was a child. Trick-or-treating inside the front North House. At that time, I felt that these four north houses were really big.
But now the four north houses have become the spirit hall of the fourth uncle.
I wanted to go in and see his body for the last time, but according to our custom here, only women can go into the spiritual hall and cry.
At this moment, I heard someone outside arguing: Why are you coming again, how are we going to take care of things when you come? On such a cold day, you should go back.
I looked back and it was Grandma.
It turned out that she already knew about the departure of the fourth uncle.
Sending black-haired people to black-haired people has been the most tragic thing since ancient times.
Not to mention that the 89-year-old sent away his son, who is more than 60 years old.
The son who was lying in front of him was born himself, wrapped in swaddling, and fed with a little milk and a little milk. Learning to climb, learn to walk, learn to eat, and learn to talk, that is all taught little by little. After that, he was sent to elementary school and junior high school, and then he got married and had children.
Grandma lived the entire life of the fourth uncle, and he was not able to send his mother to the end.
How can Grandma not be heartbroken, not colicked.
Looking at my grandmother heartbroken, I quickly followed the others to help her into the north house.
In the North House, I saw the cold body of my fourth uncle lying on a cold bed, covered with a funeral cloth.
A lifetime of wealth and poverty, a lifetime of praise and insults, a lifetime of joy and sorrow, a lifetime of busy mediocrity, a lifetime of sighs and sighs, all at this moment are all still, all hidden under the cloth of mourning.
Grandma cried silently, she sent away Grandpa, sent away my uncle, sent my mother, and now sent away my fourth uncle, how can she not be like a knife in her heart!
By this time, the hot tears had blurred my glasses.
I couldn't control my mood and started crying.
However, this is already the case, and the heavens cannot save anything.
Under the good talk of the crowd, I slowly helped my grandmother out of the courtyard.
She was crying as she walked, and when she walked through the big door, the steward asked me: How did she come?
I said I came by car.
"Well, get your grandmother in your car, and you'll send her back." The steward said.
At that time, the wind was particularly strong, which could be said to be bone-chilling, not excessive at all.
I also sped up the pace of helping my grandmother into my car.
I hurried two steps to the front of the car, opened the door, and delivered the daughter inside to my brother's car, and I was also afraid of scaring the child.
I turned the car upside down and drove slowly toward my grandmother's house.
My grandmother's house is still the same as when I was a child, the only difference is that the fence gate is more broken, the hut in the east has long since collapsed, and the hut and the cow house in the west have been gone for many years, and there is a pile of yellow soil on the ground. In the spring and summer, Grandma grows her own vegetables.
At the age of 89, he can cultivate vegetables in the wilderness, his eyes are not deaf, and he has no high blood pressure, high blood lipids, and blood thickness. It's really long-lived.
I helped my grandmother into the house, and then the five masters followed.
The dilapidated little north house, which is what I looked like when I was a child, has not changed in more than twenty years, including the comic strips posted on the wall, the comic strips tell the story of Yang Jiajian, these stories are not old again, but the stickers have become more obsolete and discolored.
I remember when I was a child, I used to pretend to be able to read to my grandmother and grandfather, but I just said a mess, and when I grew up, I realized that it was the story of the Yang family.
Grandma became more sad, and the second concubine was next to her with a strong persuasion.
"Don't cry, don't let you pass, don't let you pass, you still pass, you say what is the use of your past, people are gone, you will only be more sad after you see him in the past." 」 The second concubine was a little anxious and somewhat concerned, and her mood was very complicated.
Whose old yard is like that, in the past, there were many things and many people in the yard, very lively. With the passage of time, ten years, twenty years, thirty years, gradually, those once familiar figures, those once familiar voices have disappeared, forever gone, unable to repeat and cannot be copied, the only thing that can be left is the memories in the mind.
Grandma still couldn't stop crying, "I want to see my son for the last time."
"He's all gone, you still see what he's doing, you go there will only add to the chaos over there, and people in charge of things can't take care of things." The meaning of the second concubine's words is actually that she does not want to let her grandmother pass again, for fear that she will be too sad.
"Grandma, don't you cry, people always have a time to go, life, old age, illness and death, everything wants to open." I endured the pain and comforted my grandmother.
"That is, you are so old, you should take care of your body." The fifth master was also persuaded by the side.
After about half an hour, the second concubine said, "Let them all go, and the children, and they have to go back to the city." ”
That's when we left in my grandmother's house.
Looking at the sloping jujube tree in the courtyard, it has been the same for decades, but people are not things, and they have long been full of vicissitudes.