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When we grow up, our parents are old. Give our love to them while they are still alive.

bfyjr
2018/2/9 19:42:21
When we grow up, our parents are old. Give our love to them while they are still alive.
This book, composed of seventy-four essays, is a prose for the family, and I will always be very moved when I read it. This book describes the death of the father; the mother slowly gets old; the son's departure; the friend's concern; the brother's company and support. Write down failure and frailty, loss, and letting go.
As the author said, "I slowly and slowly learned that the so-called kinship only means, you and his fate is that this life is constantly seeing his back. You stand on this end of the path and watch him disappear into the corner of the path, and he tells you in a silent way that you don't have to chase him. "
This is the story of the time, and every one of us is growing up. I remember going home from outside in the winter two years ago, and I couldn't wait to call my father, and let him go to the station to meet me. When I got out of the car, I saw him standing in the cold wind, and the wind blew his not much hair, looking very old. He laughed at me. We haven't seen each other for a long time. I seem to be mature, and he's really old.
On the way home I understand that the children grow up, parents are old. The only thing we have left for our parents is our back, when one day we finally really look at our parents. They are already leaving us.

Every one of us is growing up.

The only thing we have left for our parents is our back.