Thunder and clear skies and heavy rain in Zhang Chunlin.

The spring rain surprised the spring and the valley. After the solar term, there was a faint thunder in the distant sky, and the awakening earth revealed the opportunity of birth. On the balcony of my mother's house, several nameless flowers are in bud, and through the red blessing on the window screen, they are in harmony with the shallow grass in bud downstairs, echoing from afar.

This is an ordinary Tuesday, an ordinary lunch. When I got home, my mother had put the food on the table. This is a common routine, and the smell of mother is everywhere. Aluminum pot's newly steamed rice is covered with a curtain to cover the hot yesterday's steamed bread. The black iron pot and wide soup are full of fragrance, a bowl of pork belly stewed with cabbage and potatoes is steaming, and there is a plate of celery and almonds, and a plate of crucian carp stewed with my father's favorite sauce.

Recently, my father has a toothache. He can't eat well during the day and can't sleep at night. His face is dark and his expression is very painful. He ate so little on the table that he didn't even move his chopsticks, the favorite braised crucian carp. He just ate a few mouthfuls of rice and drank some soup, and then left his chopsticks. Dad complained to me at the dinner table; Recently, I don't know why I always look at things in a double way. I clearly saw chopsticks in front of me, but as soon as I reached out, I grabbed them empty and demonstrated while talking. I explained that it may be the normal deterioration of human function, senile cataract and glaucoma, but I thought to myself that as long as it is not a recurrence of the old disease, I am not afraid.

Dad stood up after dinner and turned to the bedroom. Mother quickly got up and stood in front of her father, letting him hold his shoulder. Because dad is weak, the old couple usually walk around the house like children playing games.

Dad wanted to show off in front of his son, stubbornly pushed his mother away and said you didn't need help. I walked slowly into the room. I followed my father closely, watching him stumble to the bed, sit down slowly, lean against the bed, close my eyes and lie down, and then retreat quietly.

After a while, my father seemed to be asleep. I climbed into bed and lay gently beside him. My father's eyelids twisted, bent down and moved to one side. Actually, I know he didn't sleep. In recent years, I have gone to my parents' house for lunch every Tuesday, and then I have a nap. Every Sunday, we have a family dinner. There are many noisy people, but Tuesday is a little quieter.

Dad's voice is weak and intermittent, like talking to me and talking to himself, and talking to me without a word. I can't speak clearly because I have a toothache. In order to hear what he said clearly, I pulled my leg at the end of the bed, leaned over and put my head on my father's neck. I couldn't help lying in bed and became a "person".

Dad told the story that I have told many times. In fact, it is the family history; Dad lost his father when he was seven years old, and grandpa died of the plague. At that time, the folk name was Horila, so many people died in a village that even the young and middle-aged couldn't find the bodies to carry. Grandma is a small-footed woman in the countryside, pulling her only child, and orphans and widows are struggling in the countryside.

Thanks to the help of my father's uncle and brother, my uncle and brother have my father's grandfather, and the family is also an orphan. Two widows raised two children and formed a family. Dad is always excited when he mentions his brother. He said he was eight years older than him. Although the two brothers are not brothers, they are close relatives of the same flesh and blood. Brother is also a brother and a father. When I was a teenager, I was a big family, pulling my brother and two little girls to live. It can be said that the family is too poor to have a house and a ridge, and often can't open the pot. There is no heatable adobe sleeping platform on the bed, not even a wooden cornice. After chatting for a while, my father sighed and said that the old cat slept on the beam and was passed down from generation to generation. Now that life is good, a dozen people in a large family are busy. Well done! Dad didn't say anything.

When my father was eighteen, he was admitted to the military factory technical school and went to town from the countryside. The next year, I married my mother in the same village, then joined the league, got a raise, and had a son, that is, me. Later, I went to Shenyang with my grandmother and mother, and lived in the factory dormitory of Beiling Park, No.4 Floor, Sanli Sanxin, Santaizi East, Huanggu District, in a building with bright windows. At that time, energetic builders and young people were beating with the pulse of the country, and the fiery age was accompanied by a fiery life. Like many young people at that time, my father wore wavy hair, Lenin's clothes, a gray trench coat and a cap. Some people call it a forward hat. This style of hat has been worn by my father all my life, so that my classmates joke behind his back and call him "Forward Hat".

Dad, who came to town from the countryside soon, gradually evolved into tuberculosis because of a pneumonia treatment that was not timely. In fact, according to the medical conditions at that time, it can be cured by injecting remifentanil and streptomycin for several courses. But because of his young age and lack of medical knowledge, he didn't pay attention to it at all, and slowly fell to the root of the disease. It was like a nightmare, which accompanied his father all his life.

In my childhood memory, my father's perennial state is; Hospitalization, injection, medicine, recuperation, and then go to work, and so on and so forth to start the next cycle. My four children, brothers and sisters, were all sent to the countryside when they were very young, brought up by grandparents, and will come back to school soon. I almost got into the habit of conditioned reflex. No matter how crazy I was playing outside, I ran home panting and pushed the door open. I must have held my breath and opened the door gently before I crept into the house. Fear hangs over my young mind, because I have seen my father look pale and faint too many times, bending down to cough up blood, and there is blood in the basin under the bed. I'm afraid my father will lose his life because he coughs up too much blood. Every holiday, I will silently pray that my father must not get sick.

Later, dad was hospitalized more and more frequently, so that neighbors didn't habitually ask if they had eaten, but wanted to ask how dad was. We don't mind after a long time, just tell people that we are not sick, and we have been fine recently! In this way, dad, a well-known old patient, overcame his illness and financial difficulties, led our family, and ensured that my mother and our brothers and sisters had enough food and clothing without going through labor insurance and receiving factory subsidies, and they were all healthy.

In the era of economic depression, it is not easy for a family to open seven things of daily necessities, soy sauce, vinegar and tea. I remember that I retired as a soldier and went to the factory and the Dabailou office. One day, my father called me to pick up the briquettes after work. As agreed, I came to the 70A boiler room of the factory, which is the power hub of modern large enterprises. Hundreds of meters of conveyor belt roared out of the high-power workshop window like a dragon. Unburned slag, like a goddess, scattered from a height, mixed with hot moisture and hot steam, turned the heat wave and poured down from the high slope, and charcoal rushed at the feet of the crowd. My bony father huddled in the crowd and was almost drowned by the diffuse heat wave. At the moment, he is looking down to pick up the briquettes he found, with sweat on his forehead and his light blue poplin shirt soaked with sweat. I didn't dare to erase it just now, for fear that acquaintances would see the briquettes pick them up. I'm sorry, for fear that my white shirt would be stained. Seeing my father at the moment, I was ashamed and rushed into the pile of ashes and slag, trying to pull out more briquettes. Dad said forget it, it's almost enough. We put steaming coal balls on the flat plate. Dad pushed the bike with one hand and pulled the rope in front of him with the other. The rope was pulled tightly into dad's thin shoulder. I tried my best to push the cart and let the rope hang, so my father was less stressed. Don't let the rope tighten dad's shoulder. All the way down, maybe it was coal ash, and my eyes were always wet.

Dad has been indulged for a long time, and he doesn't laugh at ordinary times. People who don't know him well think he is serious. In fact, he is a humorous person with a very good popularity. People say he is tall, and he has a pie at a glance. I know best in my heart that a kind father struggles with the disease almost all the time. He watered the happiness of his family with his heart and defended the reunion with his life.

Dad was very happy at the golden wedding reception with his mother. He said that he did not expect to catch up with the golden wedding for 50 years in this life. Thanks to my wife's painstaking company, thanks to my children's meticulous filial piety and thanks to the miracle that life has created for me! Yes, this is a miracle, because two months before Kim's marriage, a doctor saw his father's chest X-ray and was amazed. Whose movie is this? How does this person breathe? We told him calmly that the patient was hospitalized in the ward. Indeed, you can't see the lungs at all on the chest radiograph, only a vague outline can be seen. Afterwards, the doctor said that no matter in teaching or clinic, I have never seen such a chest X-ray.

Our family probably estimated that the medicine, pills, granules, water, noodles, bottles and cans of soup and water dad used in recent years could fill a truck with a bucket. Dad took medicine as a companion, interacted with the disease, and suffered too much suffering and pain. He said that every day is like stepping on a steel wire rope, worrying about falling down anytime and anywhere, with only one wish, to bring his wife and children out and keep his family away from illness and pain.

My father was lonely since childhood and became ill for a long time as an adult. Under the guidance of my mother, my whole family took good care of my father, and my brothers and sisters scrambled to express their filial piety. Filial piety of all virtues is the biggest family precept in the family. No matter how big or small things are at home, dad is in place with a phone call, and children dare not say no to their parents at any time and under any circumstances. Dad always said, I am satisfied, my wife is virtuous, my son is filial, and I have no regrets.

For children to express their feelings, dad usually smiles and sometimes deliberately gives you hints. When Marriott Hotel first opened, he kept saying that three-star four-star hotels had been there. I don't know what this five-star hotel is like. After going to Marriott, I walked around upstairs and downstairs and tasted it. Dad was happy for several days. Dad likes to be lively. As long as there are distinctive places around him, we should show him around as much as possible. He has been to the color TV tower overlooking the night scene for dinner, seen the shemale show of Orchid Hotel, been to the temple fair in the old north city and eaten Sugar-Coated Berry. When his old partner who retired with him was keen on taking a bath, he had already gone to the sauna to experience the people's feelings. More interestingly, a year ago, before the Spring Festival, I went to CCTV for business, so I took my parents to Beijing by plane and stayed at CCTV Media Hotel. I saw Ni Ping, the host of the Spring Festival Gala, and saw so many stars and singers upstairs and downstairs. My father was so happy as a child that he specially collected a stack of napkins from the media hotel as a souvenir.

Dad seldom praises me to my face. At a family gathering to celebrate my birthday, he personally put a pure gold ring inlaid with sapphire on my ring finger, which was a compliment to my boss for setting an example. That scene is very emotional, and it still makes people cry when I think about it. After my father put on the blue gem ring, he choked and put his arms around me. I was caught off guard and didn't know if I was used to it. I could only accept my father's hug gently. In my heart, my father is so tall and powerful that I only know that my father is too thin to win after hugging him. At that time, my father and I both cried, and the family around us also cried. This is the first and only time in my life to hug my father. Afterwards, the picture lingered in my mind for a long time. I often think, why is it so subtle to express feelings when you are born as a human being? Some people have never hugged their parents who gave birth to him and raised him in their lives. Am I lucky or sad? I always regret not shouting out, dad, I love you! Although dad knows I love him.

An ordinary Tuesday is so unusual. After taking a nap with my father, I went back to work. I hadn't sat down when the phone rang. It's my mother's voice, telling me to go home at once. When I entered the room, my father looked in a trance, had difficulty breathing, and had bruises on his nose and nails. My mother told me that she just wanted to sleep and took a small piece of valium, and then she had hallucinations and passed out. I leaned over my dad's forehead and said, Dad, I'm back. It's okay. Let's put on our coats and go to the hospital at once! Dad nodded slightly, glanced at me feebly and closed his eyes slowly. I held my dad's back with one hand, sat up with the other hand and put on my pants. At the moment when I held my dad by the bed, suddenly, I felt like I was holding a feather and fell into the dust. This ominous sign made my heart tense.

I have no time to think about it. In the ambulance, the rescue room, the hospital, until the evening, until late at night, my father was still asleep, only occasionally his index finger twitched slightly. In the middle of the night, my father sweated for a while, his clothes were soaked, and he was still in a deep coma without any consciousness. The doctor came over several times and told us to be mentally prepared, understand what the doctor said and know the subtext of this sentence, but we just didn't want to believe what the doctor said. How many times have you experienced this situation? You saved the day and turned everything into luck. You will survive this time!

In the morning, the indicators of vital signs are getting weaker and weaker, the green signal on the screen is gradually disappearing, and our hearts are also contracting tightly. Tears blurred and dragged the doctor, pointing to the screen flashing like fireflies, sobbing; Look, doctor, there's still hope! The doctor said it was drug residue. Mother hurried to get the shroud and said to put it on at once, but she was still very weak. Time, fixed at 7: 45 on March11! Dad, sleep forever. His wife, who has been with him all her life, was in tears, stroking his cheek gently and saying goodbye to him softly. His two sons and daughters clung to his warm hands and feet and leaned over his chest crying. Dad didn't have a trace of pain on his face, and his expression was calm and peaceful, just like he was asleep.

The whirlpool of great grief from a bolt from the blue is confusing, and we respond mechanically under the guidance of our relatives and friends. The next day, I crawled on the bed where my father had been lying the day before, smelling the temperature and breath left by my father yesterday, and I wanted to crush the past minutes and chew them carefully. I always feel that this is not true, it is a dream. Yesterday we were alive together, talking, eating and sleeping. This day and night, my father is gone? Just lying alone in that cold place! I don't believe this is true, as if I were dreaming. It seems that after a while, when I wake up, my father will appear with a smile. In the gloom, I fell asleep and cried again.

When I woke up, I understood that yesterday, it was the last time my father saw me in my life. Yesterday, that was the last thing my father said to me in my life. Yesterday, it was my father's last meal with me in my life. Yesterday, it was the last time my father lay in bed with me in my life! I kissed the sheets with my father's breath, and tears soaked the bedding. Bye, dad. I'll never have a dad.

After half a month, it was sunny without rain. The sky is gloomy and gloomy, and my heart seems to be immersed in the rain, and there is a biting cold in the wet and cold. The man who raised my childhood above his head, endured the pain, worked hard, looked forward to a better and happier life, and raised me all my life will rest in peace forever on a hill in the south of the city. The dwarf pine tree next to the tunnel will flow slowly with him day and night, and my father will wait silently, waiting for me to touch the cheek of his cold tombstone, waiting for me to listen to his tragic childhood, waiting for me to tell him about the changes in the world and his family.

From now on, 17, 37, 57, 77 will go on day after day, in order to pay homage, remember and forget. Slowly adjust to the days when dad is away.

On this day, it seems that after the July 7th anniversary, in Beiling Park, peach blossoms are in full bloom, purple swallows are flying low, and I am in a trance. I bypassed the statue, crossed the trestle and turned into the boulevard. On both sides of the avenue are green willows, and the lake is rippling in spring. Suddenly, on the bench by the lake, in the warm sunshine, my father was sitting with his back to my sight. He seemed to be chatting with an old friend next to him, as if he were still smiling and nodding. Dad hasn't changed at all. He is wearing a cool gauze hat, which I bought in Beijing Shengxifu. The cover is light beige jacket, underwear or light blue poplin shirt. Looking at his back from a distance, he is still so thin. Dad chatted happily, chuckled and shook his shoulders. He seemed to see his white teeth and hear his laughter. Dad! Dad! I almost cried from my throat, and the tears could not help pouring out. Dad! You said I was easy to find, dad! Why don't you go home for so many days? Are you wearing less clothes? Is it time to change? Why didn't you talk to me more when you left, dad? My eyes were hazy and I couldn't help walking in the direction of my father. As I get closer, I can almost reach out and touch it. Suddenly, I stopped to stand.

In a trance, my father left. This is just a number similar to my father's. I have no father anymore. If you want to see your father again in the future, you can only find it in your dreams. I am afraid that my father's image will turn around, break this beautiful memory, turn around and leave quickly, and cry like a spring along the boulevard regardless of anyone's concern. When I walked to the end of the tree-lined, I was exhausted, still a little hearty, and my heart was a little relieved. My long-suppressed mood was released and I felt a little bright and carefree. People always have to get rid of the pain of bereavement.

How time flies! Dad has been away for ten years. I always feel that my father hasn't gone far, as if he will come back in a few days. I feel that my father is still at home, at the edge of the Woods, in the street, in the supermarket, and I can see him whenever and wherever I turn around. Sometimes I look up, and my father seems to be above my head, looking down kindly. I looked up and stared at the sky, hoping that my father's voice and smile would come out in the clouds. In the dead of night, I often think hard What is missing? What is missing is the gate of the dam, which can't be poured out and the high dam can't be built. It should be gently opened and slowly infiltrated, like a trickle, with a long history.

Thunder and falling rain deeply miss my father in the clouds.

Like water, the years have passed,

It's hard to win under the knee,

For our children, poor little baby,

They are all too small to know where the capital is.

Brief introduction of the author