On the day I went with S to visit your grave, S told me something about what happened after you died. Pen @ fun @ pavilion wWw. ｂｉｑUｇE。 ｉｎｆｏ

S said that once when he went to your cemetery to pay respects, he met a group of young people, and they talked for a while, and S learned that they were your mother's students. Because your mother was in very poor health that year and could not come to your and your father's cemetery to pay respects, they came to take care of the tomb on behalf of the old man and express their grief.

From them, I learned something about you.

After you died, your mom came by train to attend your memorial service. Because the condition of your body at that time was very miserable, you can only be cremated locally and then taken home, and the memorial service is scheduled to be held locally, so that it is convenient for school leaders and colleagues to participate. Your mom was very strong and calm at the memorial service. She didn't cry excessively. just stood there tremblingly, with the support of Liu Wenli, silently accepting everyone's comfort and shaking hands with everyone one by one. Mr. and Mrs. Wang, Mr. Chai, the Kaohsiung family, and Liu Wenli accompanied her to the crematorium, held a final farewell ceremony, and then watched as your tightly wrapped body, with only your face exposed, was pushed into the incinerator, where it turned into flames and turned into ashes.

Your mother hugged your urn and repeatedly said thank you to the school leaders, Instructor Wang and others, and then said thank you to Liu Wenli, and then Teacher Chai accompanied her on the train and returned to the city where your home is located.

After you leave the house, the room you used to stay in has remained the same. Your mother maintains and cleans it up every day, making it look like you've just been away for 1 minute. Everyone who walks into this room will think that you are just going downstairs to get a letter, and you will open the door of your house at any moment and walk into the place where you once lived. When your mother came back with you in dust, she walked into the room and collapsed on your bed. She can't speak to your father in her grief.

You've ever been back to your room. A part of you was once brought back to this room by your mother in a box.

She puts you in the bed you used to sleep in. She carries you back to your original home, just like you come home from the hospital for the first time with a newborn baby in your arms.

Her tears flowed down like a waterfall as she put a baby in the cradle and put you in the bed you once slept in.

When your father saw your urn, his heart burst and he fainted on the spot. Subsequently, he became ill again and was admitted to the hospital again.

In the midst of great grief, your mother persevered and held a second memorial service for you, so that your local relatives, friends and former classmates could come to the memorial service. Teacher Chai helped your mother choose a cemetery for you and handle the purchase. After the memorial service, a funeral service was held at the cemetery.

Your mom attended your funeral. Her performance at the funeral has been very controlled, although she has been in tears all the time. She doesn't lose control until the moment you're going to be put into the dirt.

She said, "That's my son!" My dear son! Please don't bury him in a place where he doesn't see the light of day! "She was no longer able to stand on her own. She still collapsed under the support of others.

Returning from the funeral, your mother returned to your father's hospital room. She endured, endured, desperately held back her whimper, not wanting your sick father to hear it, but she finally cried bitterly.

That night, your grief-stricken mother and your ailing father, both embraced each other, looking at the small fraction of your ashes that remained, immersed in unspeakable grief.

Your mother later told people that she didn't believe that a life that had been raised so hard would be all empty in the blink of an eye. Only some dust remains, leaking out of the palms of loved ones.

For many years after you died, your home remained in the same compound you lived in when you were kicked out by your father.

Your mother lives alone in that once lively and warm home. Later, when she was older, she hired a nanny to help with some household chores. She has also been cared for by her maiden relatives. She is still relatively healthy and clear-headed.

No one knows how she spent so many nights alone over the years.

People who have been to your house say that your mother used to talk to you when she was alone. She will often speak to you unconsciously. She doesn't realize she's talking to you. The older she gets, the more often she does this.

When I heard S tell me these things, I couldn't hold back my tears anyway. I couldn't stop them from flowing down.

Actually, I'm like that too. When I'm alone, I talk to you a lot. I'll talk to you out loud as if you could hear it somewhere. Sometimes, like your mother, I forget that I'm not alone and let others find out.

I'd love to be able to comfort your mother. I would love to be able to free her from such pain. But, just as I can't stop it from engulfing you, there's nothing I can do to help your mother. I'm not even as big a role as Liu Wenli. At the very least, she can also be your nominal girlfriend, meet your mother, and you can hug and cry with her. She did it all perfectly, more than I did it myself.

You've never mentioned my existence to the family. Your mom never knew you had me in your life. She never knew that there was another person in this world who missed you almost as much as she did, and couldn't forget you. I don't have the courage to go into her life and introduce myself like that, and what proof can I have?

After all these years, the possibility of doing so seems more and more ridiculous.

Later, I followed Kaohsiung to learn to do business, and I also started writing various columns and literary works, and I made some money. Under the name of Kaohsiung, there is a foundation that takes care of the elderly who are lonely. Every year, in the name of the foundation, I send a sum of money to your mother to help her live, but I don't dare to ask too much, so that she will not be suspicious. When she retired, her salary was actually quite high, but after years of inflation, that money is now not worth much, and she lives on a tight budget. This money, I believe, is very necessary for her.

However, I never let her know what the real source of the money is.

I know what it would be like to live in a widowhood without a wife or an only child. I was able to help her live, but I couldn't comfort her.

Just like myself, Kaohsiung was able to take care of my life and make me professionally successful and rich, but, too, he could not comfort my inner pain of losing you.

Later, one year, I went to Hengshan for a meeting and met a pen pal who had become a monk.

I poured out this inner pain to him for years.

"You can't give someone something you don't have," he said. ”

He said: "When you don't have the power in your heart, even if you have a wish, even if you can see his mother, you can't bring the power to others." ”

He said, "So, you have to have strength first. You have to find that power first. ”