A composition about the storm of life

Life is like a winding mountain road. If you drive on this mountain road for a long time, you will encounter all kinds of weather, sometimes sunny, sometimes rainy and even stormy. When I am lucky, I will find a hut to shelter from the rain, but more often, I am always beaten black and blue by the wind and rain.

When I was a child, I always felt that I was the happiest, because I not only had love from my parents, but also from my grandparents. I feel like living in a honeypot. Every day, the sky is blue and the sun is shining.

. I have never seen a storm, let alone experienced the feeling of its coming.

The sunny days gradually decreased, but I didn't realize it was a sign before the storm came.

Grandpa is in the hospital. Because of diabetes, similar things have happened before, but it will be fine after a few days of transfusion. But this time is different. For a long time, I didn't get better, and a sense of foreboding enveloped the whole family.

The last time I saw grandpa was in the hospital ward. My grandfather is very peaceful. He lay there quietly. However, grandpa's face has lost its former look, and his chubby figure can only be described as skinny. "Grandpa, I'm coming to see you." Grandpa opened his eyes slightly, only gave me a weak look, and then closed them again. This is the last look, although only for a few seconds, but it will be engraved in my mind forever. There are many unspeakable feelings in those eyes.

After grandpa died, many people sent wreaths and filled the yard. Some are from relatives, some are from my grandpa's friends and colleagues before his death, and more are from people I don't know. Grandma stood in the middle of the yard and bowed deeply to hundreds of wreaths to show her gratitude to everyone.

For the next three days, I was like a walking corpse, and I didn't remember what I had done. Everything is like a movie to me. I'm just an audience.

Now I am sitting at grandpa's desk, and everything is so familiar. Look, my grandfather has a bearded face. At that time, I always liked to touch it, face to face, pestering my grandfather to tell me stories. As for the stories I told, I don't remember them now, except that they never appeared in books. My handwriting was not very good at that time. My grandfather held my hand and taught me stroke by stroke. He also said to me from time to time, "Chinese characters should be square and occupy the center of Tian Zige. The same is true of being a man, to be formal and upright. "

There are many memories about grandpa in my mind. Now there will be no new memories, only aftertaste. Grandpa's memory was interrupted four years ago, and the last fragment was fixed at that cold noon. After my grandfather died, I sealed all my memories. It was not until three years after my grandfather died that I opened these sealed memories again, but every time I felt a dull pain in my heart.

My greatest wish is that grandpa will tell me another story, hold my hand and write another word, and then let me touch the tied beard. But I know, it's over, and I won't come back.

Grandpa's book is still on the shelf; The pen used by grandpa in the pen container is still there; I don't know how many scissors I've cut, but the lingering sound of "Be formal and be indomitable" remains deeper in my mind. ...