Life is a moment of love, but it will last forever.

Life is short, but love lasts forever.

Grandma's gone. Last trip.

I took one last look at her and finally touched her. It's very cold.

The last thing I can do for her is to revise her eulogy.

Ordinary people are small, but small achievements are extraordinary.

All kinds of past events, because they have been gone for several years, are far away. Countless unforgettable pictures are like broken movies, leaving only a few words on the broken wall.

The red couplets in front of the house turned white after I don't know how long the sunlight refracted, and the road behind them was too long to see clearly.

It's only a few years away, and I'm afraid I can't even remember her voice.

Grandpa was seriously ill when his father was less than ten years old, and grandma raised a large group of children alone for more than 30 years and never remarried.

In my memory, she always left me with a lonely back, bowing her head, stroking the old door frame next to the white couplet and walking silently.

I once heard my father say that grandma was tall when she was young, and her long hair was combed into two big braid.

In May this year, I went back to see my grandmother who was very ill. My mother combed her hair. Grandma said shyly, I have been hospitalized for so many days, and my hair is messy and ugly.

Grandma never told me the story of her youth. I have heard all the stories from my mother on and off over the years.

What would grandma say if she told me the story of her youth?

It's not hard to talk, so she didn't say anything.

In this life, 84 years, there are only a handful of happy times: my husband died young, left alone, worked hard, raised children and got married.

Time has brought growth to future generations, but she is locked in the old house alone, turning over dusty memories and sighing.

Halfway up the mountain, more than 30 years have passed, and grandma is next to grandpa. With half a century's fatigue, she will lie peacefully in the soil.

I guess, just a guess that I can't confirm in my life.

Even to outsiders, grandma's life is very bitter, but in her memory, there are still many good memories. Grandpa has always been young in her memory, and he is still clear and white, and his hair is white.

Maybe in another world, at this moment, she is young again and has combed back her long braid.

I remember one of the few details. When I was about eleven, my grandmother sat next to me. She pressed the meat on her arm with her fingers. She said, you see, when people get old, skin and meat don't feel so close together, and it will take a long time to bounce back. Then she pressed my arm again and said, Look, your skin is very tender, and it bounces immediately when you press it.

I often spend cold winters in the northwest. Winter in Sichuan is not cold, but I think it is too long. The cold morning is closely connected with the night. This is my first experience of Where are you going?

Later, I came home from Qianshan, and I never brought any fruit, milk or candy. Holding a handful of hot and cold paper money and touching the cold and hard tombstone.

A living body disappears, and many things will begin to change in this disappearance. And her old age has separated me from my hometown, which is not close and even more out of reach.

As far as I can remember, my mother is still thirty years old. She picks me up from kindergarten every day after work, then brings me a little pudding ice cream and drags me to the market to buy food. Later, when I grew up, junior high school and high school were not angry with her. Now we spend no more than one month together in a year.

I absolutely dare not press my parents' arms, because I am afraid that time will prove me.

Time forced me to face up to its passing and start to fear the change of time.

The regret that can be said is not regret.

There is no room for human sadness or collapse in the era of rapid growth.

Life is short, but love lasts forever.

Every inch of love is regret.

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Deyang Sichuan