Qingming random thoughts

Mourning day, drizzle like tears; Pedestrians on the road want to die. When I first arrived at my hometown in the morning, the sky was still clear in Wan Li. God's face keeps changing and falling all the way. Such a spring, such a solar term, the slightest coolness attacks people, so I feel the change of the rain, and I have been standing there with inexplicable sadness in my heart. Grandma's grave is buried far away from home. ? Grandma 1998 died, and it's almost twenty years now. My unfilial granddaughter has only been there a few times. At that time, I really wanted to cry in front of the grave and tell the road I have traveled over the years, but I thought about it and held back. After all, there are so many nieces and nephews. Don't let them feel that this aunt is so fragile and melodramatic. ? Grandma loved me the most before she died. Pure, tolerant and full of bloody love. This love is especially precious in those years when my father was irritable after losing his mother. Throughout my childhood, she was my quiet refuge and habitat. She took good care of me until my parents came back, and I was still willing to warm my grandmother's feet on a cold winter night. I will always remember that scene, when the car that took my grandmother to the funeral turned out of sight from the path where I grew up as a child, panic seized me in an instant. Turning that corner, I know that my grandmother, like my mother, will never come back. Along with the love she gave me, she also turned out of my sight. I sobbed silently, knelt on the cold ground and begged God to give my grandma back. However, I only saw the hearse getting farther and farther until it disappeared. It was particularly cold that day, dripping into ice. At the end of the year, the lingering rain made the whole world seem to be heartbroken in advance. I understand that I have lost an irreplaceable shelter since then, and my heart is full of orphan desolation: Grandma, who else in this world can give me such warm, generous and unconditional love except you? Grandma just left, with an umbrella on her head, a rainy day. Years later, as long as I think of that scene, I feel extremely sad. I miss my grandmother with heartfelt pain. At that time, I was afraid that my relatives and family would mention how kind my grandmother was to me when she was alive-how much security that kind of kindness gave a girl, and let her know that even a stubborn stone would be tolerated. She also said that she would buy grandma the warmest fur coat when I grew up, but she didn't wait until I grew up. The last time I listened to the Star of Grandma Wei Xiao recited by Lao Xu in The Reader Wei Xiao, I burst into tears and could only hold my knees tightly and sob silently. The next day, when I came back in the middle of the night, I always dreamed of my grandmother. She sat by the courtyard door of the square patio, waiting for me to go home and comb her silver hair when she was a child. After many years of grandma's death, the mountain road is difficult to walk, and the mood is complicated and difficult to say. I'm afraid to miss my grandmother on purpose. This reminds me of my guilt and my ruthlessness. Yes, I just muddle along, bored, lively, sloppy, indifferent and pursuing enjoyment. My grandmother, who gave me warmth and love all her life, worked hard all her life and left without enjoying the blessing of her granddaughter, lying alone on a desolate hill, overgrown with weeds. The sky is so gloomy and the world is so quiet. I just stood there and looked at the sky. Although the sun was shining, I was still shivering.

? As for mother, the word "mother" is the most subtle word in my life. Sometimes, after writing the name "mom", I put it down. Many times, I miss it, but I don't want to remember it, because every time I read it, I will have that kind of heart-wrenching pain from the bottom of my heart. Every time I go to Tomb-Sweeping Day, I always take time to kneel in front of her grave and talk to her gently. Sometimes she laughs when she talks, cries when she laughs, and whispers as if she is still with us. Only when I come back here, can I let go of everything and tell the bitterness and tiredness in my heart, just like in my mother's arms, I am still the inexperienced child, and I can be spoiled and cry at will. I feel that when I often go, I can see my mother in her early thirties sitting in front of me, or she has ear-length short hair and looks at me with a smile. It sounds like I'm telling me, girl, take your time, don't worry, mom is listening ...? I really miss the freedom to cry when I was a child. At that time, tears can be exchanged for warm comfort and meticulous care, and you can also get what you have been coveting for a long time. Don't worry about how ugly your eyes will be when you cry, don't worry about what others think of your weakness, and don't hate the sympathy in others' eyes. But now, I have lost my true feelings, put on a nonchalant look and hidden my sadness. I've always wanted to be a woman who is too emotional, sentimental and sad. But life is like a torture, just like being in a whirlpool, getting deeper and deeper. The saddest thing is that you know everything, but nothing can be changed. Can only wait quietly. The mechanical repetition of yesterday every day makes me wonder if I am alive. Sometimes I always wonder why I live so helpless, so scared, so scared! I don't know where the panic comes from, but I have no choice but to accept it. I try to comfort myself: for the deceased, missing may actually be a kind of nothingness, and the meaning of missing is only to remind the living to live and cherish more correctly-however, I have not done well enough in this respect, so I want to adjust my mentality, live every day carefully and make myself happy. After all these years, I think I really forgot. But on such a night, in a silence, I remembered the tears floating up again. At the moment, in the warm light of downtown, I am sitting on the sofa and writing some irrelevant words in sequence, although I shed two lines of sad tears. And grandma and mom, my closest two people, are always in the coldest darkness. Time won't let you miss the wind, it gathers in the wind at any time. I think of what Zhang Ailing said to her grandparents: "They just lie quietly in my blood, and when I die, I will die again. I love them. "