最慢的是在世念书条记

　　那些日子实在说不上悲伤。风俗也不许可悲伤。她虚寿八十三,是喜丧。有亲戚来怀念,哭是要哭的,吃也还要吃,睡也还要睡,谈笑也仍是要谈笑。大嫂每逢去睡的时辰还要朝着棺材玩笑,“奶奶,我睡了。”又朝咱们笑,“奶奶必然疼爱咱们,会让咱们睡的。”

　　棺材是两个,一大一小。大的是她,小的是祖父。祖父的棺材里只放了他的一套衣服。他要和奶奶合葬,用他的衣冠。灵桌上的照片也是两小我的,放在一路却有些奇异:祖父还逗留在二十八岁,奶奶已是八十三岁了。

　　I would rather say when that day eventually arrived we were not so sorrowful as imagined, also, the traditional custom didn’t allow too much sadness. She passed away at the age of 83, that was an enviable life span. As for her death, it seemed like an occasion on which the funeral turned to be a celebration. A number of relatives came, they cried on the funeral but then we ate, slept and chatted, as normal. Every time when my sister was about to go to sleep she said to the coffin, “Good night, grandma.”

　　And then she turned back to us, “Grandma loves us she will surly let us have some sleep.”

　　We laughed and agreed, as if our grandma were still around us.

　　There were two coffins, grandma slept in the bigger one while the smaller one was for my grandpa, not his body, but some of his old clothes. In his will several decades ago he told his family if he became a missing corpse in the war, he would be buried with his wife after she passed away, using his clothes to represent his body.

　　The photos of the couple put on the table also looked strange. My grandma was 83 while my grandpa was always at the age of 28, for all the past half a century.

　　我看着一小一大两个棺材。它们不像是伉俪,而像是母子。我看着灵桌上一青一老两张照片。也不像是伉俪,而是母子。为甚么啊？为甚么每当面临祖母的时辰,我就会有这类身份紊乱的感受?会感觉父亲是她的孩子,母亲是她的孩子,就连祖父都变成了她的孩子?不,不止这些,我乃至感觉村落里的每小我,走在都会街道上的每小我都像是她的孩子。恍如每小我都能够做她的孩子,她的'度量合适每小我。

　　我乃至感觉,咱们每小我的模样里,都有她,她的模样里,也有咱们每小我。

　　与此同时,她实在,也是咱们每小我的孩子。

　　I stared at the two coffins, they didn’t look like those belonging to a couple, but more likely to be a mother and her son. Then I saw the photos on the table, they also seemed to be mother and son. Why? Why I had the feeling of strange identity disorder when I stood in front of my grandma? I always felt my father and mother, now together with my grandpa, were all her children, even anyone in the village and anyone walking past the streets were her children. It seemed that her embrace could warm everyone in the world.

　　I even had the feeling that everyone of us can identify the parts of faces and bodies which are inherited from her, our appearances have something similar to hers more or less. She was everyone’s mother.

　　At the same time, when she died but we continue to grow old, she became a child of us to some extent.

　　我的祖母已远去。可我愈来愈清晰地晓得:我和她的真正间距历来就不是太宽。不管春秋,仍是存亡。如一条河,我在此,她在彼。咱们组成了河的两岸。当她堤石坍塌逆流而下的时辰,我也已泅到对岸,自发地站在了她的原址上。

　　我必须在她的根里生长,她必须在我的身材里复现,犹如我和我的孩子, 我的孩子和我孩子的孩子,一切人的孩子和一切人孩子的孩子。

　　在世这件事情成了最慢。性命将是以而加倍繁复,广博,丰美,艰深和慈善。

　　My grandma had left us. However, I know very clearly that the distance between she and I is always short. We are closed as we were, no matter what happens. The life and death are like two sides of a river, I am here and she is beyond the river. When her soul float downstream and disappear in my sight I know I will swim across the water and stand on where she once stayed.

　　I must grow inside her root system, she must reappear inside my body, like my daughter, like my granddaughter, like the child of everyone.

　　Living on earth is a slow process. Life is simple, deep, beautiful and full of kindness.

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