On the eighth day of the lunar month, it is the day when every household drinks Laba porridge, one is to commemorate the traditional festival, and the other is to inherit and worship the ancestors.

And since the eighth day of the lunar month in 2016, I haven't tasted this Laba porridge. This day is the day when my mother leaves me forever.

Sunday, January 17, 2016, the eighth day of the Lunar New Year, 3:26 p.m. Mom, after you took one last look at your son, you closed the eyes that you were reluctant to close forever.

You walk so peacefully, so peacefully. Just because, at your last glance, what you see is the son you care about the most.

Holding your breathless body, tears that have not been shed for a long time completely cover my eyes.

The child has been naughty since childhood, although he has not disobeyed you, but he has run away from home several times, and on the days when there is no news, you helplessly ask for a fortune teller, wish the child to be safe, look forward to the early return of the child, and cry many times to dry your tears.

Although you have died young, your life hangs by a thread, drowning, car accidents, fires, and serious injuries have broken your soul. Your earnest teachings afterwards and the frightened eyes are still fresh in my memory.

The mother of the child is worried, and the child is thousands of miles away and misses the mother. Because of the early death of his father, in order to make money, my son left you for more than ten years and worked hard outside. You are proud of your son's achievements, and you are sad for your son's hard work.

Winter is coming, you call, you have to wear more clothes, the weather is hot, you call, don't go out at noon, the end of the year, you say: it is inconvenient to go back and forth. I'm busy over there, don't come back for the New Year, I have your sister at home, I'm fine.

There is no regret medicine in the world, if time can go back, the child is willing to live a hard life, the child is willing to be by your side, under your knees, sooner or later, even if it is disobedient to you, invite you to scold.

It's rare in the world to wake up, the money your son gives you, you are useless, you want the company of your son, but you are refusing against your will.

On the day when you were seriously ill, my sister asked you, "Do you want to call your son back?" You shook your head and said:

He's busy outside, it's not easy. My illness is not a matter of moment, don't disturb him.

But you're shaking your head here, and you're already in tears over there.

Mom, do you know? When my son learns this, his heart is like a knife, even if he gives me the world?

During chemotherapy, the wards are all women, and according to the hospital's regulations, children are not allowed to stay overnight with you in the ward.

During the day, your child is in front of your hospital bed, and you endure the torture of your illness, and your face is full of smiles. You have endless words to say, endless babbling.

You know that you are afraid of the dark, and before the evening, you urged me to go back to the hotel, saying that there is a nurse to take care of it. But your eyes, which are reluctant to let me go, betray your heart.

Even so, the longest time, you let me stay with you for more than a month. In more than two years, you drove me away many times, and in one year, between Beijing and Hefei, I ran back and forth nine times.

When you meet people, you praise your son for his filial piety, give you endless money, buy endless clothes and jewelry that you can't wear, and your son is often complacent about it.

But when my son was taking care of your relics, I knew that my son was wrong and that my son was not filial! All you could take away was the heart that had been missing your son all the year round, and it turned to ashes with a wisp of green smoke.

The motherland is called a mother, which shows the greatness of maternal love, and everyone has only one mother. The bustling profits and profits cannot buy the love of a mother, and the gold and silver mountains cannot be exchanged for the family affection in the world.

I would like to express my wish to my mother good in heaven! I want to tell you: Mom, I am fine, don't worry about my son anymore.

Please go home often to see and accompany you. Don't be like me, the regret that the empty son wants to raise but the relatives are not there.

---- Sanqiu Hall, put aside the pen on January 24, 2018, the eighth day of the lunar month.