Some thoughts about grandpa's death

On the morning of June/KOOC-0/65438+/KOOC-0/October/KOOC-0/2, 2020, I just went to the village to shoot when I received a phone call from my mother. On the other end of the phone, I choked and said, "Shi Yun, your grandfather has left." I didn't wake up. I feel as if I haven't woken up from my dream. I vaguely remember saying "yes, I know". My mother hung up the phone. I can hardly remember whether I should go back to sleep or stay awake. There seems to be no difference between clarity and vagueness.

Before I went to shoot with my girlfriend, I had heard that grandpa was in poor health and almost died several times. He was relieved there. At that time, everyone in the family thought that he was dying, especially his aunt, who had given up hospitalization. The shooting location is Huagu Ancient Village, Shanyang County, Shangluo City, Shanxi Province. It's far from home and the road is rugged. I need to change trains four times. I hesitated before I went, fearing that grandpa would leave during this time and there would be many twists and turns when I went back.

The day before I left, I received a phone call from my parents, saying that Grandpa had recovered very well recently and should live to the next year, so I set off with confidence by booking a high-speed rail ticket. It never occurred to me that I was still talking to my grandfather the night before and left the next day.

13 in the morning, I decided to go home. First, I went to Shanyang County and asked if there were any tickets to Zhen 'an. In that case, I can take the sleeper directly back to Chongqing. Someone told me that the bus from Yang Shan to Zhen 'an is only at 9: 00 a.m., so I diverted to Xi 'an, changed to Textile City, and then took the train to the South Railway Station. I made mistakes along the way, forgot to bring water, lost my charging treasure, paid for it and took nothing. The whole person is like a soul flying out of the body. No, the brain and the body are separated, and almost all actions are run by instinct.

I heard the sound of doing Dojo as soon as I got home. An ice coffin lay flat on the side door of the main room. Grandpa lay quietly inside, his face covered with khaki paper, his hands on his abdomen, and the plastic thin shell of the ice coffin separated the two worlds. Grandpa's feet are facing the wall, and there is a bench next to the tail of the ice coffin. On the bench is a wooden square vessel, which contains corn with earthy green fragrance, and the incense ash covers the outermost layer of corn. There are two candles on the stool with the word "sacrifice" written on it, and there is a futon stuffed with rags next to the stool for those who come to mourn to bow down. There is a dish on the ground in the middle of the ice coffin. There is vegetable oil in the dish, and a wick made of cotton has been lit on it.

My brother-in-law brought me incense, and after I took it, I worshipped it as I did when I went to the grave. The moment I knelt down, my tears turned red instantly. On the way home, I thought I wouldn't cry. I even thought it was a sign of cowardice, but sometimes crying is a strong side of a person, and he dares to face his true feelings. On the same day, I also met many relatives that I seldom or never met. It is still a very abrupt thing for me to say hello. If I can't figure out what to call it, I will at least pay attention to each other, especially in that case.

He remained silent when he saw his father. When he saw the same sentence "You are back", his serious expression became more profound that day. After I put down my bag, I took a shower first and ran all the way. First of all, I feel uncomfortable because of the oil pollution. Second, I took a shower and changed clothes, and my worship became more sincere. My mother is different from my father. She is always the busiest one when relatives get together and hold banquets at home. She is busy with all kinds of things, pots and pans, daily necessities, almost all through her hands. When I came out from the shower, I happened to see her enter the room with a pot of vegetables. She looks less sad and more like usual. In fact, she always smiles, but her expression is gentle.

13 is the first day of Dojo. Not many people came on this day, almost all of them were close relatives, their colleagues and friends. Shortly after taking a bath, my brother-in-law asked me to worship incense, and Mr. Taoist sang on the stage with gongs and drums. I hold incense in my hands, bow with the singing Taoist priest, and look at the paintings on both sides of the room from time to time. Taoist burned paper, ordered chicken blood, waved it back and forth and kowtowed. The smell in the room, the squeaky singing, the sound of gongs and drums, and the voice of people talking, at that time, I felt that people's brains had entered a very mysterious state, which evoked some memories about grandpa.

When I was a child, I liked swimming. I used to soak in the river all day. Grandpa has a piece of land by the river, so I often meet him doing farm work when I swim. He always walks by with a basket on his back. I shouted at him in the water and he smiled and agreed. Once I talked nonsense with my grandfather and my cousin. Grandpa talked about his memories of catching fish before, and all of us children doubted whether he could swim after all. After all, we have never seen him swim. You know, we were biased against people who couldn't swim. My grandfather couldn't beat us and went to the river together. I remember once diving in and holding my breath for a long time, but when I came up, I didn't look proud. Instead, he told us in a panic that his dentures fell into the river, so I volunteered to try to catch them, but I didn't catch them several times. My grandfather wouldn't let me catch it, and I wasn't in the mood to play anymore, so several people went home. Later, every time I went home for the New Year, I would talk to my grandfather about it. It was a very interesting story.

On the first night I got home, I went to bed early. Because of overwork, I didn't watch the vigil for grandpa. On the first day, brother-in-law and Sansan kept vigil together. I chatted with them for a while and then went to bed. I thought I had a dream day and night, but I dreamed of my grandfather at night. Actually, I didn't dream about him. It seems that there is no dream at all, and it is empty.

My grandfather is a good cook. In the past, caterers liked to ask my grandfather to be a chef. When I was a child, I still remember that when he was cooking, he drank a bottle of beer in his hand. I saw him, and he asked me if I wanted to drink while cooking. That is my deep memory of him.

He probably didn't think of it last year. This year my banquet is for him, but it's not his eightieth birthday. Before he got sick, he was very healthy. He doesn't wear much in winter, but it's not cold. Although I don't know if I really don't catch a cold, in fact, I hardly saw him get sick and take medicine. On the contrary, my grandmother is hospitalized every year. Grandpa's feet are also very good. I still remember that when I was in college, I went to my uncle's house with him to pay New Year's greetings. He walked ahead with his hand behind his back, so I couldn't see him for a while.

I remember that on my 60th birthday, my grandfather seemed to drink too much and quarreled with my grandmother. Since then, he has given up drinking and smoking. Before I quit smoking, my father often asked me to bring two packs of cigarettes to my grandfather, and my grandmother always said that my grandfather was a heavy smoker. Therefore, alcohol and tobacco are still harmful to the human body, and those injuries will eventually turn into a serious illness without signs or all signs, but people just don't know it.

The next three days will be a circular Dojo. On the day of my vigil, my sister-in-law told me a lot about my grandfather, including the bad and good things he did to her. Sister-in-law said, her eyes a little red. I don't know whether she is too sleepy or sad. After four o'clock, she couldn't hold on, so I let him go to bed. My grandfather and I were alone by the ice coffin. The brazier slowly provides heat by my side. I have to ensure that incense and candles can burn continuously, and I am ready to change incense and twist the wick at any time.

I thought I would cry when I was alone at the vigil, but that didn't happen. I will still think of my grandfather, but I won't be sad. Maybe I always thought that death was a relief for him, including myself. If you don't care much about the world, live old enough without tangled fetters, and die seems to be a relatively happy thing.

At about five or six o'clock, grandma got up and greeted me when she saw me. She didn't tell me about my grandfather. Maybe she doesn't want to say that all of us don't like my grandfather as well as her. She quarreled with my grandfather for decades, and when she was old, she slept in separate beds, and she got along noisily day and night. She probably didn't sleep long, three hours at most. After washing, she came and sat on the stool next to me and told some mysterious things about her, such as dreaming that my grandfather was taken away, and so on. Believe it or not, it doesn't really matter to me, but it can't hinder grandma's faith. It doesn't matter whether it's true or not, but her expression makes me feel distressed. Maybe chatting at the coffin of my ex-lover will make her feel a little warm.

My brother-in-law and sister-in-law warned me not to let my grandmother sit next to my grandfather alone, otherwise she would definitely cry and the whole person would collapse directly. I am convinced of this. Grandparents are lively people. They like eating banquets, greeting others and chatting at home. They like everything that we young people don't like now. Different from our affectation and pretentious desire for expression, the way they share and talk with the older generation has a vicissitudes of life and human warmth.

On the first day at the Dojo, my father sat at the gate and cried, wiping his nose and tears with his sleeves. I have never seen him cry in my memory. He has always been strong and arrogant. Nothing can beat him, and he is unwilling to belittle or disobey. But he cried so hard that I couldn't help crying when I watched him cry. My eyes were wet and I couldn't see clearly, so I wiped them with my sleeves. After Zhan Xiang finished, I handed him a paper towel and said nothing.

During the whole Dojo, there will be a "blessing-turning" meeting every day, and eight people will circle around grandpa's body and pray for him. My elder sister-in-law cried once, my second sister-in-law cried once, and my sister-in-law cried once. I saw it all. My elder sister-in-law cried the worst, and her voice was not small. In that atmosphere, everyone was immersed in a sad situation. When I was a child, I didn't understand why people had to do Dojo after they died. After my personal experience, I was deeply touched. People always need a sense of ceremony, and there are corresponding ceremonies for birth, death and illness, which gives people a special way and feeling to perceive themselves and the world.

On the third day, the Taoist priest went to the temple and took a camera and tripod to record. My father fell asleep on the table in the hall. I took pictures next to him and made up a few shots. Finally, under the arrangement of the Taoist priest, he brought a big column of incense and led the team home. My father followed me with a paper boat with a memorial tablet on his head, followed by monks singing and others beating gongs and drums. After the incense in my hand burned, it emitted a cloud of smoke and ran to me with the wind, making my tears and my father behind me unable to get out. When I reached the fork in the street, incense began to burn. I tried to throw it hard, trying to put it out. The result is even stronger. I just took it away and let it burn to the end. Burn from the fork of Sanshiba to the door of the house and put the incense in the brazier.

After dinner, I have been offering sacrifices. After listening to the gongs and drums for three days, it seems that it is not so harsh. The human spirit is also polished into a shape in these ceremonies and sounds, which is more convenient to pour out the thoughts and memories of the deceased. Almost everyone began to become very dim and weak, but they kept repeating the steps of kowtowing and holding incense. If grandpa hadn't died, he would have been more energetic than all of us. Even though he stayed up for three days, he was full of energy. He has always been the most energetic of our grandfather Sun San, while I am the least energetic.

On this day, many people came and met many relatives I haven't seen for a long time. They are not interested in me. They are all talking about my girlfriend, asking questions about when to get married and giving me a red envelope. ? My grandfather didn't seem to say that he would give me a great-grandson or how I got married. He just asked me when to get married. It's a pity that he didn't even see my girlfriend when he saw me get married. Sometimes I think it would be better to get married early, but I finally chose to get married late selfishly.

On the last day of the Dojo, all my relatives kept vigil. I couldn't help feeling sleepy and went back to bed for two hours. At about five o'clock, my mother woke me up and quickly prepared to go up the mountain. Because the government issued an order not to be buried, the body of the deceased must be cremated in a crematorium, so this mountain climbing actually became a crematorium. The manager assigned me a task. I followed my brother-in-law with a banner full of words, and my father held something similar to my grandfather's "ID card" in front, which recorded his life and so on. The route is from grandpa's house to mine, and then I walk along the path. Walking on the hurdle of the flat road, I couldn't hold my breath for a moment, and my tears flowed out directly. Because of that road, I have seen my grandfather walk by countless times. I often stand in front of my house on the ridge of the field and look down to see my grandfather walking there with his hand behind his back. Now he has left for the last time. I can't control it when I think about it. I quickly wiped it and got on the bus at the rice market dam.

The crematorium is above Sanyuan Dam, and I always feel that Grandpa is crossing the river along the way. I watch him here, yell at him, say hello to him, and then he turns around. At that time, he always carried a basket with corn or dry wood or sweet potatoes on his back. In short, it was full, and he walked across the river quickly. Or I saw him swimming in the river. No matter what I see, he has been carrying heavy things and walking very fast. Grandpa walked on this road to the crematorium for 70 or 80 years, rarely taking buses, but they were all hearses. I was on the other side of the car, looking at the coffin, and my mood was very strange. In retrospect, I don't understand what it looks like.

Crematorium is strange to me, because this is the first time I have ever been to a crematorium. A simple glass separates the off-site from the on-site and there are two stoves inside. Relatives look at the other side from one end of the glass, watching the relatives who have been living around them, slowly walking into the stove, then covering the lid, waiting for that person to become an urn. Fortunately, before I sent my grandfather to the incinerator, I saw that he didn't have a crack. I gently touched his head with my hand, just like I liked to touch his head when I was a child. At that time, he will touch my head as an answer. We are all inch boards, and we feel very similar.

Just when my grandfather was cremated, there was a family next to him who was seeing his loved ones off, crying. They say rural people are good at crying. My dad's gang didn't cry at all, and some of them secretly cried. My grandfather and I are close and spend more time together, but our tears may be less than 20 drops. Maybe we are all cold-blooded, heartless and selfish.

Opposite the crematorium, grandpa used to grow peanuts in his field. November is also the time to harvest peanuts. If he is still here, he should still be busy across the street, and then watch the crematorium set off firecrackers. He doesn't know when he will be here, just as we don't know when we will be here. My second aunt seems to have something to say. She said a lot at that time. She watched grandpa die, watching him until he died. She said that my grandfather didn't want my father and my brother-in-law to see him go, so he let them go, but he left quietly. I don't believe it, but I can't refute it. People are probably forward-looking about death, at least for a short time. I don't know what grandpa was thinking, and no one will know.

After putting away the urn, I took one last look at the portrait and left slowly. I took a bus to the stone beach under Yangliuwan, where everything about my grandfather was burning. His clothes, his daily necessities and all traces of his life were erased in that place. The place where his relics were burned was the place where he often crossed the river, carrying things on his back, rolling up his trouser legs and walking through the rushing river. Even though I am taller than my grandfather, I am not as strong as him. I can't get through, but he can get through at a great speed. Following my sister-in-law's arrangement, my brother-in-law and I stood on both sides of the fire and took off the handkerchief on our heads and wrapped it in a ball. He threw it at me, I threw it at him, then went back and forth three times, and finally put it in the fire.

It was almost ten o'clock when I got home. It seems that after breakfast, another day of idleness began. I seem to have done something and said something, but I don't remember it afterwards. My mind is full of pictures from crying in the morning to burning sperm.

Until now, I always feel that my grandfather is still there when I go home. When eating, I will think of calling him, preparing dried peppers for him and even giving him a cigarette, even though he has given up smoking for many years. My memory of him, when he was 65 years old, seemed to have been sealed, and he was still so powerful and full of vigor. He often stays up late and snores loudly. He wants to eat two bowls of glutinous rice balls and a sea bowl for noodles.

I am a photographer, but I seldom take photos and videos of my grandparents, which makes me deeply sorry, including my parents. I always feel that I will see them again many times in many years, and I can take them with me next time, even better next time. In fact, they are getting older every year, and they are getting older with the naked eye, and I am pretending not to know, pretending that they have not changed. Living away from them, I became more and more cold-blooded and selfish. I am more fickle than all my relatives. I can't help crying sometimes, which is beyond my control.

My dad doesn't know if this is good for my grandpa, because he used to be very afraid of my dad, and my dad always yelled at him, because he always bothered my dad to wipe his ass when he did something. For example, the pig grass machine is broken, the hoe is broken, and the induction cooker is burnt out. But my dad always asks me to give him cigarettes. I always think of him when I eat, and often help him with things. Maybe a lot of things are taken for granted, but my dad always finishes everything in swearing, and I have to teach him a lesson in the future.

Judging from my impressions of all my relatives, my dad is definitely the saddest one. He and several others quarreled because they didn't want to continue to pay for grandpa's treatment, even to the point of separation. But he is very helpless, which I can understand very well, because I am as useless as him, I can't make money, I can't do anything without money, and everything depends on others. In fact, my dad didn't realize it later. He started making money. In order to have the right to speak in the future, he also has the ability to do what he wants. I also understand this, because so do I, especially after I know myself well enough, many things begin to become fixed and unwilling to change or think. I am a selfish and cold-blooded person after all.

It's absolutely true that times make man, because my grandfather was a bunch of ridiculous things when he was young, which made my father get married and start a family very early. But many things are criticized in today's society because they were handled too strongly and were easily eaten. Because of these things, my grandfather basically didn't speak ill of my dad, and he also knew that my dad became like this because of him. More than a year has passed, and my father still seldom mentions grandpa. Grandpa seems to be the most difficult past in his heart. There is only one person at the center of those past events.

Will a person really recall the past like a movie before the temporary? I'm not sure, and I can't delve into it.

I don't know where I have seen such a saying, people should have reincarnation, otherwise they might as well be weeds. Weeds can be reborn when burned, but people are gone when they die. Therefore, such an advanced animal must have a soul. What about lions and tigers? What about microbes? Can't they have souls? So I still don't have an excellent statement to prove this problem. But the only thing I know for sure is that human beings can have memories. This matter itself is also a trace, just like a soul imprint.

Later, I dreamed about my grandfather many times, but I don't remember what those dreams were about. If we can't remember something about Grandpa, maybe Grandpa really died.