It's been eleven years since my grandfather passed away, but I haven't started to commemorate him until today. This idea originally came from a movie I just watched, "Tokyo Story" by Yasujiro Ozu. This is a movie that reflects children's distance and neglect from their parents. Its most direct theme in Chinese should be "the child wants to be raised but the parent does not wait", but it is obviously much more cruel than this. As for why I suddenly think of my grandfather, it is probably because the gentle and kind image of the old father in the film is exactly the same as that of my grandfather. Suddenly I thought of that strange dream one night, of course, about my grandpa. The dream is very strange, very clear when indulging in it, and only a few fragments are left after waking up. I just remember what seemed to be at a banquet, maybe my wedding. Grandpa suddenly appeared, and the family was very surprised. How could Grandpa, who has been dead for many years, appear alive in front of everyone now. In the dream, the familiar and unfamiliar grandfather smiled and narrowed his eyes, explaining. At that time, I had to stay away from my family for some reason, so I cheated to death, but now it is safe, so I am back with everyone. At that time, in the dream, I had no ability to distinguish this slightly bloody plot, but the appearance of my grandfather made me extremely excited. A lost and found gadget is enough to surprise, let alone a former close relative. As a result, I woke up. I found out that it was just a dream of Nanke, and I sighed. The plot in the dream is like a piece of paper swallowed by water, fading away quickly. Then I realized that my memories of my grandfather have no complete timeline, only a few fragments. So I can only play backwards, starting with the most recent clip. It was Grandpa's funeral, and I was twelve years old. Noisy grief and crying filled the hall, and then it was swept by the north wind to the ears of a child doing homework alone on the street. It was winter, I remember it clearly. Because the gas from the piles of braziers in the house filled my nostrils and was disgusting. Snow, I can't guarantee it, but maybe snow would be more appropriate. People kept walking up to the grandfather's portrait to pay homage, and I followed the adults to return the salute one by one. Everyone cried very sadly, but I didn't shed a single tear. At that time, I felt very sorry. I had been brewing for a long time, but I couldn't cry. For this, my grandmother complained that I didn't have a conscience. I don't know why I didn't cry. Looking at the grandfather lying in the ice coffin, I was sure that he was not sleeping, but something else, because his face was abnormally pale and he didn't have the usual smile. Suddenly, the pungent coal smell became stronger and stronger, as if someone had pushed me into the brazier, and then I became confused, and actually vomited in front of everyone. Later, I was admitted to the hospital. It was a serious illness that caused me to miss my grandfather's funeral. Although I later recovered that process from the CD, I always felt it was a pity. Before my grandfather died, he was paralyzed in bed for a long time. Paralysis should be the most terrible injury, because only this kind of injury can torture human dignity. So when grandpa died, the family comforted grandma and said that grandpa's death was a relief for everyone. I don't have a deep memory of my grandfather's paralysis, maybe because I despised him for not taking a bath for a long time and the odor caused by physiological reasons, so I reduced contact. It's a terrible stupidity to think about being young now. But I seem to remember that there was a time when my grandfather seemed to be showing signs of recovery, before the uncle didn't drink and get married. But soon after, I got bad news, and my aunt said it was a return to light. Twelve is the dividing line between childhood and adolescence. I am very fortunate that my grandfather existed throughout my childhood. Kindness is the deepest impression I have on grandpa. I once thought that there could never be a more kind person than grandpa in the world. In my memory, my grandfather always squinted cheerfully to my sister and me and read his own nursery rhyme: Junya Zijun, there is chicken stew. Six sisters six, just fish meat. Since my birth just caught up with the era of focusing on women over men, I am afraid that the only man who really prefers me, the only man in the Hefu, is only my grandfather. My grandfather is a retired worker, and he always secretly takes me out for a good meal before he gets his retirement salary every month before handing it over to his grandmother. I decided it was a preference, because every time I remembered it seemed that it was just me and my grandfather, no other sisters, and this special treatment made me proud of myself when I was young. Grandpa's retirement salary wasn't much, but we didn't eat anything vague. Sometimes it's a knockoff of KFC, which was quite a luxury in a small county at that time, especially for a little kid. Sometimes I go to a cafeteria to eat a buffet. I still remember that it was the first and only cafeteria in the county at that time. The long queue was as incredible as the gluttonous snakes who passed the customs with full marks. There are also things like Western food, ramen and the like. In short, the fresh things in Fuxian Town, which is entrusted to my grandfather, have been tired of eating and playing since my childhood. I was visiting the bookstore that day and saw a pair of grandfathers and grandchildren. The grandson saw a book, and after a while, the grandfather reluctantly agreed. So I thought of going to the bookstore with my grandfather for the first time. I flipped through a copy of "One Hundred Thousand Whys", and my grandfather asked me if I would buy it. As soon as I checked the price of the book, it was dozens, and I didn't dare to say it. wanted. Grandpa saw my hesitation and immediately said yes to the clerk. But the black-bellied clerk added that this book is actually a series of three books in total, and asked us if we wanted the remaining two. I looked at my grandfather, which meant no more. As a result, Grandpa nodded and said to the clerk, "Three copies, all of them." So when I was young, I staggered home with three copies of "One Hundred Thousand Whys" that were as thick as Cihai. Grandpa still happily followed behind and didn't help me. At that time, I thought to myself, darling, this is the first time I have received such an expensive gift, over a hundred. The cost of over 100 was not small in those days. I thought to myself, this time my grandfather may not be able to explain to my grandma. Sure enough, as soon as we got home, my grandfather and I were scolded by my grandmother. Grandma insisted that my grandfather and I take it and return it. Grandpa just waved his hand and said no with a smile. Grandma scolds me. Afterwards, my uncles and aunts came to relieve the siege, saying that since I bought it, I would never ask for such an expensive gift again, and they repeatedly told me that this set of books is expensive and must be cherished. It's a pity that I didn't make it until I graduated from elementary school, and I lost all the remaining copies. It's a pity now that I think about it. Grandpa's temper is really outrageous. Anyway, I have never seen grandpa's black face once, and I can only remember him with a squinting and cheerful expression, like a facial paralysis. At that time, the grandma, who was used to scare us children to sleep, was basically an absolute authority at home, and no one dared to refute it. Grandpa's retirement salary must be paid on time every month. Of course, in the later period, my grandmother has acquiesced in the expenses that my grandfather took me out. I don’t remember how much my grandma gave my grandpa a fixed allowance every month, but it was barely enough to buy a pack of cigarettes. So every time my sister and I asked my grandfather for pocket money, my grandfather had no choice but to take out an empty pocket and show it to us. Later, maybe I couldn't stand the attack from my sister and I's eyes, so my grandfather had to become a "thief". Speaking of each "commitment process", it is really thrilling. Every day at noon, the grandma who opened the teahouse would leave her small locked cash box to greet the guests and bring tea and water. It takes about ten minutes, and during these ten minutes, grandma will always go back to the cash box from time to time to find this and that. The location of the cash box is directly opposite the gate, and the guests who come in and out can become eyewitnesses against us at any time. And grandpa had to find the small key, open the cash box, take out a dollar, and then go out of the gate to the alley and secretly give it to us under all kinds of difficult and extraordinary conditions. This is simply an impossible task. So every time, my sister and I are watching the wind at the front door and the back door respectively, one is in charge of watching the guests, the other is in charge of monitoring my grandmother, and my grandfather is looking for the small key. Whenever a guest wants to enter the door or grandma wants to return, my sister and I cough desperately, and my grandfather immediately sits in a chair, smoking a cigarette and watching TV. At this time, the guests were always inexplicable, and my grandmother always looked at us suspiciously. In the end, however, grandpa found the small key in the mahjong box, and we succeeded. With that hard-earned dollar, my sister and I ran to the next door with great excitement and joy to eat a bowl of mint jelly. Stealing is like taking drugs, it's addictive. This metaphor is actually very bad, and I don't know what good metaphors there are for two words with similar parts of speech. After tasting the sweetness, my sister and I couldn't give up at all, and my grandfather was forced by us to be a gentleman on the beam again and again. But the good times didn't last long. It might be that we stared at Grandma every noon and coughed, which aroused her suspicion. Finally, at a certain noon, we were caught and seized on the spot. But in fact, before we missed, there were already internal conflicts. This is not unusual, Chinese people are notorious for fighting infighting, even a brother and sister, not to mention others. The basic reason for infighting is generally the uneven distribution of spoils, but my sister and I are precisely because the spoils are too evenly distributed. Because every time my sister and I go to Grandpa without pocket money, the person who asks for money has to take absolute risks, so my sister and I hope to get something for nothing. So sometimes, even if we are greedy, we will try our best to restrain ourselves, to see who can't help but go to grandpa to speak first, and the rest just follow him and watch. After the grandfather succeeds, he will not take care of one or the other. Half of each person is divided equally, and there is no such thing as distribution according to work. So witty like our brothers and sisters, no one wants to be a big head ghost. But it is not the way for two people to continue to work like this. After enduring for three days, my sister and I compromised and reached an agreement at the same time. Two people must pay the same labor results and bear the same danger. So the following bizarre and inconceivable scenario emerged. After the meal, a kind old man was sitting under the big tree at the door of the house smoking a cigarette leisurely. The two little kids on the side suddenly appeared in front of the old man, exchanged glances and nodded, and then said to the old man one by one [ Lord] [Master] [Can] [No] [Can] [Give] [I] [We] [One] [Block] [Money] [Buy] [East] [West] [Eat] [Ah] [Good] 〖Will〗【Yes】〖Yes〗【No】〖Yes〗【Yes】〖ah〗. In order to let the other party say one more word, take more risks, and make more money for ourselves, we brother and sister often rack our brains to have such a nutritious and brainless dialogue, so each time this dialogue must end with an even number. Grandpa always squinted and looked at us cheerfully, then threw away the cigarette and tiptoed to open the small box. The day when Grandpa was stolen and taken back didn't seem to be any different. The timing was the same as usual, and we didn't have any technical mistakes. It can only be said to be a coincidence or fate. Grandpa believed in Buddhism, so maybe it should be the latter. No way, who made this world have too many fates. The circumstances of that day are still vivid in my mind. Grandma was naturally furious, and she scolded her grandfather in front of her head and face. Grandpa still ate all over the sky, and smiled cheerfully at grandma. Grandma couldn't decide to catch me and my sister, the two little rascals, and kill the chickens for the monkeys to see. But neither of us are fuel-efficient lamps. Grandpa's trick is to keep laughing, and our trick is to cry to death. When we see grandma holding "Liaoshuaizi" from a distance [Note: The local plant, which is dry and thorny, is often used by elders to educate younger generations in family law, and its effect is equivalent to beating with bamboo strips. There is a local specialty "Liaoshuaizi Fried Pork", which is the childhood nightmare of every local child.] When we walked towards us, we would throw our feet and open our mouths and cry loudly, admitting our mistakes while weeping. When the guests and other elders heard our cry, they stepped forward to relieve the siege. Grandma was unable to do anything under the watchful eyes of everyone, so we also avoided the pain of flesh and blood. The ancients said: Fortune is where misfortune lies, and misfortune is where fortune rests. Since we were stolen and seized, we still asked grandpa for pocket money, and grandpa still took it from the small box, but we no longer needed to be sneaky. Because grandma knew that we couldn't stop our greed and grandfather's favor, she simply acquiesced to this unspoken rule. Not only can we be aboveboard, but we don’t have to take risks, speak without scruples, and ask for money more often than before. It is true that the ancients are not deceived. However, the above description is not enough to describe my feelings for my grandfather effectively. It was mentioned earlier that I am the only male of the third generation of the He family. It is worth adding that I have four older sisters and one younger sister. Does it sound like a green leaf in a thousand flowers, is it like a bright moon that is sought after by the stars, and is there an indescribable sense of happiness that arises spontaneously. Of course, the premise is that the elder sister must be gentle, kind, considerate and generous. If not, growing up with a bunch of girls who are too tough to explain is definitely a nightmare for a boy. First of all, you have to satisfy their special hobbies that want to assimilate you all the time, and avoid them wearing strange clothes, makeup, and hairstyles for you. Secondly, when they are eating, drinking, playing, listening to songs and chatting in their boudoir, you can only hide in your own room and play with your fingers. This is the inevitable isolation of the only opposite sex. Third, it would be fine to ignore my existence all the time and treat me like air, but when there is some physical work or errand work, such as it is snowing outside, everyone is sitting on the fire and watching TV while someone proposes to eat beef skewers or When no one likes ice cream, everyone will tell you with their eyes, who made you a man. Fourth, there is too much unity between the same sex. Although I am the only boy, I have only one sister. Hey, please, I am only a younger sister, so the only one I can bully is her. But every time I bully her, I always get a lesson. What the hell is this? I can't even bully my own sister, and let me live. The most tragic thing is that when things come to the end, I have to be taught a lesson by my sisters every time after being bullied by my sister... However, as a man who stands above the ground, I can endure all of the above. . The only thing I can't stand is that when they go to the toilet at night they can go together and I can only go alone! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! I remember my childhood nights being spent with a wave of horror movies. Every night, my group of sisters, who have been deprived of the right to live by men such as brother and brother, would gather in the living room on the second floor to watch videotapes and discs because of the large number of women. Since I'm young, it doesn't really matter. Since I'm a boy, I don't have the right to choose videos at all. So it's up to them to decide what to watch. And they always have only one choice of film type each time, and that is horror film. I said it abstractly before, but now I should know how tough they are. Women who grew up watching horror movies can be gentle. In short, my childhood was filled with countless horror clips, which left a very serious psychological shadow, and I still have lingering fears about horror movies to this day. The most bizarre horror scene is still fresh in my memory and I'm afraid I will never get rid of it: that is, a movie protagonist who has been in blood mold for eight lifetimes is pooping in the toilet, accompanied by scary and tense music, in the shit pit. He actually slowly stretched out a hand covered with yellow sticky objects and dragged him into the shit pit! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! Even with my current mind, I was so shocked that I couldn't speak for three days and three nights, but I can imagine how seriously it hurt me when I was young and innocent. I am sure that my unformed outlook on life was completely overturned at that moment. No one has dared to go to the toilet alone since watching that bizarre film. But everyone was a child at the time, and they were not so comfortable with physical control. Although they were afraid, their shame made everyone not allow such a shameful thing to wet their pants when they were awake. So every time the disc is finished with A disc, everyone goes to the toilet. The toilet at that time was far at the end of the corridor, and it was a long and dark road to get to the toilet (of course, that was for us at the time), and even when we got to the toilet, the dim light in the toilet was enough to create infinite reverie . Although they are relatively mature in age and mentality, they are girls after all. I have to say that the wonderful film has a great influence on everyone, so every time they go to the toilet, they walk together and take care of each other, and their sister also There is always someone to take it with you. As for me, if I pee my pants, everyone will love it. I have struggled in despair between horror and shame countless times. Whenever someone in the movie is in such a desperate situation, a superhero comes to him, and my superhero is Grandpa. So every time I want to go to the toilet, I have to call my grandpa to come up first, and then ask him to take me to the toilet. After entering the toilet and turning on the light, my grandfather can't leave. Because every time I go to the toilet at night, the scene in the movie will never end in my mind, so I go to the toilet inside and my grandfather is waiting at the door. Because I was afraid that Grandpa would leave halfway, I could only ask every ten seconds: Grandpa, are you still there? Grandpa always took the trouble to answer: I am here. After another ten seconds, I asked again: Is grandpa still there? Grandpa replied: I am here. After another ten seconds, I asked: Grandpa, are you still there? no respond. "Grandpa! Grandpa! Still here!" Still no response. So I was completely frightened, my emotions completely collapsed, and I tried my best to cry: Grandpa? Grandpa? Where are you? grandfather! ! At this time, there was the sound of hurried footsteps in the corridor. Grandpa rushed up to me with an old step, smiled and reassured me and said: eh, eh, grandpa is here. Grandpa just went downstairs to get cigarettes. When I heard Grandpa's voice, my heart was settled, but my emotions didn't stop and I cried even more. I walked out of the toilet with my trousers on, and my grandfather patted my head with a smile, stroking my head, reciting the scriptures in his mouth and saying that it's alright, it's alright. That incident left a deep impression on me at the time, so I am still especially afraid of people I trust leaving me halfway. But since that time, my grandfather never left when I went to the toilet. In fact, recalling this process can help a person to deepen his memory ability. I originally thought that my memory of my grandfather was very vague and only a few fragments were left, but I wrote that those memories of the past were like a blowout of oil gushing out. The image gradually became clearer, but I decided to stop writing. Because even if there are more memories, the above materials are enough and rich for the emotions I want to express to my grandfather. Remembrance is hypocritical and redundant. I still remember that I didn't cry when my grandfather died, and my grandma once complained to me [You are a child with no conscience. Your grandfather loved you so much before he was alive, you didn't cry when you cried] Actually, I don't understand why I didn't cry at that time, maybe because my conscience really didn't grow up at that time. In fact, I have always felt guilty for not crying at the time. But fortunately, eleven years later, my conscience has finally grown. Although I don't know if these few thousand words can replace the tears at that time, it at least proves that I have never forgotten you. Maybe you didn't even think that there will be someone who will solemnly remember you in the middle of the night more than ten years later. That person is your most beloved grandson, so can I say to you rationally, Grandpa, you are not in vain. love me. Suddenly I remembered an important fragment. What makes it different is that the previous memory can only make me love my grandfather, but this narration makes me respect. It was in a chat after eating at my uncle's house this summer that I learned that in the summer of 1989, my grandfather, who was still running a restaurant at the time, once put up a sign at the entrance of the restaurant: Free for students. ,
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