My mother, Sun Jingyan.

There was no class last Thursday afternoon, so I went home to pack up what I needed to go to the insurance company to claim compensation. A lot of materials, at sixes and sevens. Dig out a big bag that has been useless for a long time from the cupboard and take the information to school.

Just now, when I was sorting out these materials, I found a paper bag in the interlayer of my bag, folded into a square, which read "Jingjing buys food for reimbursement" and contained twenty dollars. It took me a long time to remember what the money was for. I don't remember clearly. I think it was my freshman year. One day I was playing a game, and my mother asked me to buy food. I said impatiently that I had no money, but she said it didn't matter. I'll give it to you. Later, I dropped the mouse and said, I bought it, and then I rushed out with my wallet. The vegetable market is downstairs, but I went shopping for an hour before I went back. When I entered the door, I felt that freezing was another storm, so I apologized to my mother, because then I could continue playing games. My mother calmly forgave me and took the food to cook. I think this money can only be at that time, when I went out, she silently wrapped it. I don't know what kind of eyes she looked at my back after slamming the door, nor what mood she felt when she wrote those six words on white paper. Maybe it's chilling, maybe it's helpless, maybe it's a little angry, and some are competitive-didn't you say you had no money? I'll reimburse you. You won't suffer anyway. Looking at this paper bag, I really want to ask her if my mother was very sad at that time. I want to sincerely apologize to her and tell her how much I regret being impatient with her. But there is no chance. My mother forgave my mother again and again, but she can never forgive me again, no matter how gentle she is, no matter how much I regret it. In summer, the hottest time of the year, my mother passed away. It's winter now, when all the lush leaves have fallen, only the strong wind in Beijing has been blowing and blowing. Those skinny branches in the cold wind always remind me of my mother's hand in the hospital bed. They are all so thin, but they never give up. Months seem to have passed in a blink of an eye, but then again, is a few years or more a long time? If it is really long, then why do I remember my mother so clearly from childhood? Is my young, plump, wrinkle-free and ruddy face still so vivid? Our primary school teacher once criticized me. She said the word lifelike can't be used to describe the living. At that time, I was wearing a ponytail and a red scarf. How could I think that a few years later, I got such a high score in the Chinese exam, and when I could use words correctly, I used "lifelike" on my mother? These days, I have felt the fact that my mother is not here for countless times. Really, irretrievably, left this world. Flowers and plants scattered on the balcony due to unattended, dusty jewelry boxes, photos recording such happy expressions, father's rickety back, unattended golf clubs lying in the corner … and the paper bag I just turned out. Even at her funeral, even when I examined her ashes as a relative, I didn't realize as clearly as I do now that my mother would never come back. When I was a child, I looked forward to the sound of opening the door at home, which meant delicious food, fun and my mother's warm hands and arms. That door will be opened and closed countless times in the future, but the person I expect will not come back. I don't want to admit it like that. I always feel that it is not true as long as I don't say it. But now I can say after all, my mother, she can't come back. I didn't say and I don't want to say much. I don't want anyone to use my greatest sorrow as an excuse, but I can't escape sooner or later. I have been to Babaoshan twice, once my grandfather and once my mother. I still remember when my grandfather was cremated, I was still young and I couldn't accept the fact that my grandfather died. This fact hurt me the most. I cried and begged my father to bring me some grandpa's ashes. I wanted him to accompany me. After doing everything, I was almost carried away by tears. I kept asking my father why he didn't bring my grandfather back to me. My father was red-eyed, opened his mouth several times and burst into tears. He said he couldn't. It was the first time in my memory that my father admitted that he knew nothing, but I couldn't understand it. At that time, I was very sad and desperate, and I felt that my father was weak. I realized how cruel I was when I came here for the second time. I made such cruel demands on my father. I waited in front of that small window with a group of heartbroken people. I'm not crying. I think I'll do it myself this time. I want to stay with my mother. But when I really saw the ashes in the box, I didn't remember anything. I just want to be one of countless bone fragments and lie quietly in the box with her. I hope I never know that the original ashes are not real dust. Those bones are like memories, burned, crushed and still there. A few hours ago, they were my mother in the morgue. A few days ago, they were active. A few years ago, they came to meet me, but now they are there. That's my favorite person, my favorite person. That's my mother. If I gouge out my eyes, I can say I haven't seen them, cut off my ears, I can say I haven't heard of them, and I can say I haven't felt them with my heart out, then I will definitely do them that summer. But those memories will not disappear after all. My mother's departure was not a moment at noon that summer, but a process that I experienced personally. /kloc-I'm familiar with the smell of the bus No.0/5, the single ward, the building outside the window, the tasteless food, all kinds of medicines and disinfectants in the hospital, and the rotting corpse. In high school, the place where I stayed the most was not home, but hospital. Every weekend, every holiday, every day when I was absent from school because of worry, I stayed with my mother in the hospital. However, she still leaves day after day. I watched her getting thinner and paler. I watched her hang countless bags of medicine every day, so I was speechless. I watched her rejoice at a little hope, but she was quickly crushed by reality. She thinks so much that she can get better, and how much she can't bear to part with her family, especially this daughter who never worries her. She has endured so many painful operations and treatments that she can't eat normally for nearly half a year and can only rely on potions and rice soup to maintain her life. A month before she left, she even believed in all kinds of remedies that she had never scoffed at before, and even dared not drink more water. She poured a few bottles of bitter Chinese medicine and spat it out. She once said that she might as well die of unbearable pain, but every time she pulls herself together, it's just to meet the next pain … the next despair. My mother said, Jingjing, my mother still wants to see you get married. The first time my boyfriend really saw my mother was in the hospital. She was very happy that day. She kept looking at Zheng Xiao and told Zheng that I was lazy and stupid and told him to take care of me more. I am not happy, because I know that although Zheng Peiqi is excellent, it is absolutely impossible to impress my mother on the first side. My mother is extremely strict with others and has always believed in "seeing people for a long time". At that time, I'm afraid she knew she couldn't hold on anyway. She knew that she had no choice but to trust her daughter and the person she chose. She knows she can't worry about me anymore. I don't know whether people are knowledgeable or ignorant after death, but I want my mother to see that her trust at that time was not disappointed. From my mother's death to now, I feel the most sorry person is Zheng. On that day, he should have left for other places after taking the final driver's license exam in the morning. The plane ticket and hotel have been arranged, but after he received my call, he left everything to accompany me to the hospital. He watched my mother leave with me. In the last ten hours of my mother's life, she didn't respond to the outside world, just gasped with her eyes open and her fingers stretched out unconsciously. Even people I don't know, I feel tortured when I look at them like that, and I am her favorite daughter, and she is my mother. The doctor said that medication can temporarily increase her data, saying that doctors are the hearts of parents, but how can they understand? I have been crying, but I really don't want my mother to die a little longer in this place that only gives her pain and sadness. I'd rather be scolded by 1000 people for being heartless than suffer. That's my mother. Finally, at noon, the number on the instrument began to drop, then suddenly rose again, then fell again, and finally everything was gone, my love, my hard work, my concern and my heartache were gone. During that time, I was in tears. I held my mother's hand and sobbed, don't stay any longer, but at the moment when my mother really left, how much I wanted to tell her not to leave, and I didn't want you to leave. But I didn't. I didn't after all. Zheng slept in my living room for a few days, spent the most difficult time with my relatives who I thought I couldn't hold on, and solved my tears with endless gentleness. What you saw before about me and his life, your thoughts, are just the tip of the iceberg. When my mother left, Zheng held my hand tightly and kept holding it. In the next few days, he held my hand, such as saying goodbye, sparking, attending mass in church and wandering around Catholic cemeteries. I have decided to love him all my life. I still remember that in Nantang, hundreds of Catholics came forward in turn and sprinkled holy water to pray for my mother. Everyone's face is like the soft light of heaven. The sunshine through the stained glass window was so beautiful that the candle beside the urn went out. I wear a cross and bow to everyone. My gratitude and sadness are real, and so is my resentment against the so-called gods. Born in a religious family, he has never been religious for 18 years; If there is a God, I will ask the unknown God on the altar at the end of the church: What crime did my mother commit? However, there are thousands of innocent people in Qian Qian. What are their sins? Even if it's as bad as me, what's the crime compared with a really vicious person except ordinary or even humble ones? I didn't know until my mother was ill that there was no order between maturity and aging. As my mother's illness became more and more serious until her death, I grew up rapidly and aged rapidly. Look at me now at the age of fifteen or sixteen. How can I imagine that just a few years ago, I was so indulgent, so idealistic and so self-centered? I was completely different then than I am now. My mother is like a watershed, separating me from today forever. It seems that I am still an ordinary one among countless peers, with all the joys and sorrows, love and hate, highlights and defects that people of this age should have. But I know the difference. Just a few years ago, I could scold anyone without scruple, stipulate any system or even start a fight, because I knew my mother would always echo me, enlighten me and clean up all the mess for me; I can take a few bites of the whole table and throw it away, because I have never seen my mother secretly write a whole list of things she wants to eat without eating for months, but when I bought her the bean jelly she wanted to eat, she was speechless with pain after only a small bite; I can spend hundreds of dollars to buy a game equipment that I think is good, because I know that no matter how my mother teaches me, she will eventually pay for me; I can spend a lot of time hanging out with friends, not attending classes or not attending classes at all, and indulging in games and novels, because I feel that I still have a long way to go, and there is no need to make achievements in these years to repay my mother. When I realized it was too late, I couldn't fix everything. It was too late. From the day I learned that my mother's days were numbered, no matter what achievements I made, in the eyes of others, it was meaningless to me on the one hand and a drop in the bucket on the other. I know my mother can't enjoy my happiness, but I still strive for all the honors that can make her proud, just to please her heartfelt happy smile. But it's too little, too little anyway. Her greatness obviously deserves all the glory of the rest of my life, but her illness will not let her wait until the day when her most concerned daughter really comes out. Because of my mother, I was fearless before, and I began to be afraid of failure. I can't forgive myself if I let my mother down. I was so nervous that I almost collapsed before the college entrance examination, because unlike others, I could at least make up for it after I lost. I only have this chance, and my mother can't wait until the next year to go to the college entrance examination. But I survived. But what if you survive? What's the use to me without my mother, awards, grades, admission notices, all kinds of praise and glory? The person who applauded me left.

But I must insist, no matter how bitter, tired and not understood by others. For my mother's sake, I must be the kind of person I only dared to dream of before. I must take full responsibility for myself. Every mother's life is a tapestry. You think the reason why they no longer shine is because they are old and decadent, but that's not the case. It is they who separate youth and dreams from life and sew them into your life one by one, making you shine. My life is full of mother's stitches. How can I waste such a piece of cloth, even a little bit? It was my mother's life and all her love for me. Besides fighting for it, how can I repay it? I want to live after all, I want to be strong, happy and wonderful. People will never know who is worse than themselves in the world, but at least we know the worst person, you are not, and I am not, so there is no reason to give up forever. Those who are far less fortunate than you have not fallen. I used to be such a prick, a black sheep, an angry youth, who dared to say anything and do anything. I was so depraved, but many people thought I was good, because at that time I was true, unassuming, free, crazy, spontaneous and brave. How do they know how many times I have stabbed the closest person with my own edges and corners? I am getting more and more lawless because of the tolerance of the other person. I began to get old when I realized that the person who always supported and protected me unconditionally could not save me. I became sophisticated, silent and realistic, and worked as hard as the people I once laughed at and despised. I may still be the same person, wearing the same skin, but not the same, especially those who know me should know how different I am. I dare not laugh and cry like them any more. My harbor is gone, even if others are willing to accept my berth, I must drive carefully, because I will sink. I've seen a lot of assholes in everyone's life, abusing their families because of trivial things, and even saying, "Why doesn't she/he die?" Yes, I said something bad, but I will never apologize and never take it back. All these people, even if they are as kind as bodhisattvas at ordinary times, are complete bastards at that moment; And those animals who curse their families viciously should really die if they don't make innocent families sad. This may be my extreme, but after all this, I want to be extreme. At the farewell ceremony of my mother's body, my only thought was to hope that others would never go through this-because I thought I wanted to commit suicide. I know how hard it is to lose, so I can't see that people who have it don't cherish it. People who can still worry about quarreling with their mothers will not know how happy they are in my eyes. How I want to argue with my mother again, let her scold me and let her hit me hard, but it's impossible. When my mother is dying, don't say raise your hand. She can't even speak. I am willing to spend ten years of my life arguing with my mother again. Who can change it for me? I am an unfilial daughter. Not only do I not let people worry, but I also like to escape from reality. In the past few days when my mother was ill, I was particularly afraid of going to the hospital for a while. I just want to get out of that place. I invite people out to go crazy, go shopping, watch movies and eat. The more lively the better, the more people the better. If there is no one to accompany me, I will wander alone in the busiest street, or stay at home and turn on the TV at the maximum volume. In this way, I get the illusion that nothing has happened. I'm still that teenage girl, making trouble every day, always waiting for my mother to clean it up for me. But these dreams always wake up, and I will eventually go back to my mother's ward. Every time I look at her weak body and her understanding eyes without blame, I want to slap myself hard. When the person I love most needs me, I run away again and again. Now no matter what I say, do or regret, it's useless. My family is falling apart, but I can't. I have to support this family. I must at least pretend to live happily. When my mother died, I was like a walking corpse. Cry in my heart, smile on my face, laugh louder than anyone else, paralyze myself with all kinds of busyness, for fear of accidentally remembering, and then burst into tears. People who have not experienced this feeling will never understand it anyway, and I don't want anyone to understand it at this age. It's too early. It's too early anyway. I do. I hope others don't have to. Studying and working during the day, and dealing with all kinds of things after mom died. I've taken care of all the places I shouldn't go at this age, and I've been to all the places I shouldn't go. Crematorium, police station, insurance company. The return of units, securities companies, property companies, housing agencies, bank business halls, notary offices ... old-age insurance and housing provident fund needs complicated procedures. There is only one page in the list of materials required by insurance companies to make claims. All kinds of stock accounts should be contacted by the person in charge, and the bank card should be handled to collect rent and pay property fees. I must learn from scratch. At night, countless nights, I woke up from my dream with tears in my eyes. This is not a nightmare, but a beautiful dream. I have been dreaming about the scene with my mother since I was a child. Young, beautiful, happy and healthy mother smiled at me so truly that the time after waking up was my nightmare.

My mother's mobile phone, bank card, email ... I didn't stop, but I kept them in their original state. But I know that all traces will fade away bit by bit, until one day, all traces will disappear, and I, as well as all those who have memories of my mother, will die, and my mother will really leave. From then on, there is nowhere to be found. I still remember that my mother was allowed to go home to recuperate when conditions were good. At that time, she thought she could get better, but she was still happy despite the pain every day. One night, I was trying to catch an article by hiding the door, when I suddenly saw a black hard-shelled worm crawling slowly on my desk. Growing up, I subconsciously jumped up from my chair and screamed, but when I realized that my sick mother was resting, I immediately shut up. Just as I stood stiffly watching the insects crawl, I heard slow footsteps, and then my mother pushed the door open with a fly swatter and said, Jingjing, don't be afraid. Because of abdominal pain, my mother can only walk slowly, so she walks up to my desk in that posture and kills the bug and crushes its body into toilet paper. "Look," my mother whispered to me with a smile, "my mother can still protect you." My mother, she smiled helplessly, but was full of pride. She has lost all her hair because of chemotherapy and wears a hat. Even in the dark night, she can see a pale complexion. She is 1 m 74, weighs less than 90 kg and still has a lock on her body. Now, I can kill this bug myself-because the person who tried to protect me is gone, even though he is very ill. But you can still tell your mother that you miss her and love her.

Written in:

I didn't expect to receive so many people's comfort and support, some people know and some people don't know. I am equally grateful to you. Thank you for your messages and messages, and thank you for your concern and encouragement. No matter what happens in the future, no matter what kind of person I will become, I will never forget or live up to it.

I saw many people crying after reading it. It was never my intention to make everyone cry, but I wrote such an article and published it publicly. I really have a purpose-I hope that through my experience, I will remind everyone to cherish, cherish family, cherish love, cherish life, cherish every inch of time that can be made up, and don't be so indifferent, so arguing, so intolerant and so abusive. Fate is uncertain, and no one knows what will happen in the next moment, but happiness at this moment can be grasped. At least I can let myself have no regrets and regrets, instead of crying when I lose it like me.

I have never been a pessimist, especially my mother. Some things are impossible to understand without experience. Some people think that I am too pessimistic and negative, and some people think that my mother's idea of giving up is weak and incompetent, just because they have no personal experience, and I don't want anyone to have this experience, because it is too painful. Therefore, I can accept this misunderstanding, but I still hope that everyone will not make comments. After all, we always know little about other people's lives, don't we? As I wrote in my diary, people will never know who is worse than themselves, but at least we know that the worst is not you or me. Those who are much less fortunate than us are still fighting against fate. How can you give up?

Whether it's my mother or myself, I think the stronger we are, the better.

Now, I can finally say it. However, the grief of losing loved ones, whether it is a day, a year or a lifetime, will not be alleviated by the passage of time, but we must learn to be strong. How many octogenarians will still be in tears when they recall their parents, but so will life. When the pain is inevitable, at least I can choose how to face it. So I think I will accept it sooner or later. I will dry my tears, smile and miss my mother, live wholeheartedly, cherish it, love it sincerely and appreciate it.

Thank you all. I wish you happiness and you can get the life you want.

As for those who can show off from the text, or think what I want to do with it, I really have nothing to say but sigh. It only takes a few seconds to see the traffic on my home page, so why should I write such an article in tears at three in the morning? There is always a kind of people in the world who are not afraid to speculate with the worst malice, and I am not flawless. Therefore, no matter how absurd and cool thin those words are, I still want to believe that their hearts have at least the most basic respect for the deceased. I hope they will never go through these hardships, be safe and happy forever, and never be mature enough to know what they said. They hurt me who just lost my loved ones, and sincerely hope that others can avoid this kind of pain and regret.