I used to live with my grandfather for a while.

At that time, I was young, and every time I got up, I could see my grandfather feeding the pigeons in the yard.

There is just a osmanthus flower in the small yard, and every time I am unconscious, I can smell a rich aroma, accompany me to get up, accompany me to eat, and accompany me to and from school.

My grandfather didn't keep the pigeons, because I never saw the pigeons' hut somewhere, and I never knew where they came from.

I was just able to see them, bouncing around under my grandfather's feeding, eating buns, millet kernels, baby corn.

I never even thought that this food would appeal to a flock of pigeons, so I urged them to fly over every morning and my grandfather got up early to feed them.

When the day was bright, I also got up drowsy, washed my face with a small towel, brushed my teeth with a small toothbrush, and carried a small school bag on my back, and passed through the flock of pigeons in a daze, and my grandfather scolded me softly, because the pigeons were going to be scared by me.

However, I have never seen those pigeons leave my grandfather, they are not my old acquaintances, they belong to my grandfather, and because of this, my grandfather's grandson does not scare them.

Sometimes, I wonder if there is a possibility that my grandfather found a nest for them somewhere, and when the meal was ordered, they flew over, and my grandfather also knew that he took out the "food" he made to feed them, just like my grandmother, every time I just said twice, I knew that it was time for me to eat.

Jumping out of the nest they built for me, I was just like the pigeons.

But when I grew up, I searched and searched, but I couldn't find the nest that my grandfather built for them. I will never see my grandfather again.

The pigeons were no longer seen in the small yard.

Now, I can only think that when my grandfather died, so did the pigeons.

It may be because there is no one to feed them, or it may be because there is no lonely companionship.

This is, a lonely concern.

Once upon a time, I thought that I also had such a "concern", the pigeon is the "concern" of my grandfather, my grandfather is the "concern" of the pigeon, my grandfather feeds the pigeon, and the pigeon comes to this small yard and waits.

I don't have a group of pigeons that can let me get up early to feed, so I lost this natural concern, I deliberately create the so-called concern, I raise cats, I raise dogs, I raise turtles, they seem to become my concern, but too deliberately cultivated, and let me always think that this kind of concern, is ruthless, boring, boring.

Because I never have a flock of pigeons that come from nowhere waiting for me to feed.

To this day, I can't figure out if it was my grandfather who was waiting for the pigeons or if the pigeons were waiting for my grandfather.

Or, they waited for each other.

This made me puzzled, I couldn't figure it out, I couldn't answer.

I can't imagine, nor can I see my cats, dogs, turtles grieving my loss after I die.

Leave where I fed them, or never come back.

I can only imagine the misery of them when they lost me...... Either I will be reduced to the streets and become wild cats and wild dogs, or I will die in a place where I will never see again, and become a shriveled corpse to be swept into the trash.

What a sad thing it is, and I am so calm now.

So now, I'm kind of scared, scared of death.

I was afraid that I would die, just as I imagined my mother's death.

My mother must have been scared of death, she must have been scared of what I was going to do when she died. Will they end up on the streets and become wild children? Will you be bullied by the relatives who flock to you, will you no longer have an optimistic and cheerful life......

What should I do if I encounter difficulties in the future......

What should I do if I get seriously ill in the future......

What should I do if I have a mental illness in the future......

Who's ...... will be like her, wholeheartedly, put me in the palm of her hand, and be a treasure......

When I think about this, I can also understand the fear of death in human beings.

Obviously, when you die, you have nothing and no consciousness, and everything in this world no longer has anything to do with your cold shell.

There is also an inexplicable fear of death.

"Hey ......"

I petted the cat, and it lay lazily, just because I wanted to touch it, and it noticed it, and it felt like a close relative.

My dog also jumped to the bedside, he was not as pretentious as my cat, and he needed me to sleep with him, but when he saw me up, he ran to me in a hurry.

The turtle I kept in the little tank crackled and crackled with the sand, and it didn't know that I was awake, and I could only think that it knew I was awake and that it would be able to get some crumbs.

This is something that I have taken the initiative to keep at home, not like those pigeons, and I am a "distant friend" who flew in because of my arrival.

I don't have the same natural concerns as my grandfather, but I do have them.

I have to wake up early and go to bed early and live a regular life, otherwise my cat, my dog, my tortoise, will be hungry for a day because of my laziness.

I took the initiative to raise them, their lifespan is not as long as mine, and I also want to be able to see them die naturally, although when I bought them, I didn't think that they would die at my hands, but after a long time, I can't help but be afraid, the day they die, will it become the most feared day of my life.

I was so abrupt that I needed to face three life-and-death partings.

Oh...... Probably two.

Because there was a turtle.

When cats and dogs die, will I shed tears?

Or am I going to cry a lot?

I didn't think about what kind of expression I should face the day they left in my world, but it was a bad emotion after all, and I wouldn't think about it anymore.

"It's good to have you."

I fed them their own breakfast, which only took ten minutes, and I didn't eat breakfast, and they were finished, and they were more comfortable and carefree than I was, and I couldn't help but wonder what it would be like for them to be gone.

Do they cry?

What do you cry about?

Or is it that the moment they feel that they are about to die soon after, will it be my longing that has been with them for so long?

Thinking that animals would also be too harsh on them, I could only think about it silently, and then I didn't think about anything.

After all, on the day my grandfather died, the pigeons didn't come to visit him in his hospital bed.

On the day my mother died, my father didn't come to visit.

I looked at the sky from afar, wondering if the pigeons would visit my grandfather's grave when no one was around.

I looked out to sea and wondered if my father would visit my mother's grave when I didn't know it.

This man who only has a posthumous photo left in his world is still smiling in the end.

I can't blame my mother for not being able to tell her about her concerns.

I couldn't be harsh on my father for not being able to come to me and express his concerns.

I can only, little by little, have my own concerns.

It will no longer be a cat or a dog, but a living person.

I hope that I will indeed meet "her" and become each other's thoughts.

I don't want to worry about each other's deaths one step earlier.