My grandfather

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This post was last edited by cflt111 on 2015-11-23 at 20:16. The north wind howled fiercely, and heavy snow made it difficult to see the path ahead; the sky and the ground appeared as one in a gray hue. In the city, young people rushed along, either on bicycles or walking fast on the sidewalks, their expressions indifferent as they strove to move forward. With that gray sky, that dark ground, and those figures ahead of them, everyone kept pushing forward – whether out of conformity or because they believed in their ability to keep improving themselves. Yet such a monotonous daily life attracts countless young people – yes, those city workers. Think of those poor kids from other places who study day and night; what was once seen by their families as a source of hope turns them into mere shells of their former selves. Struggling to afford a house, a car, and raising children, they gradually become exhausted, with no time left to think about their grandparents – it’s truly heartbreaking. 　　The old man said that people should return to their roots eventually. Grandpa often told me that rabbits, no matter how far they run in the mountains, will eventually return home. I remember that Grandpa was a very healthy and optimistic person. Before I started school, he herded sheep every day; I would walk in front of the sheep while he followed behind. In the morning, he would make tea for me, and we would go home as the sun set. I was so happy back then. While herding the sheep, Grandpa would tell me stories every day, and I wanted to hear another one after each one. If he refused to tell more stories, I would complain to him, forcing him to start again with “Once upon a time, there was an elder brother and a younger brother…” When I was in the third grade of elementary school, I was beaten by the father of a child from the village. I didn’t dare tell my family, and it took over a month before they found out. Grandpa was so angry that he went to confront the father of the man who beat me, and he couldn’t sleep properly for several days. Grandpa was kind throughout his life, and he would always smile broadly when talking about his grandchildren. I’ve never seen my grandparents argue in real life; it’s always Grandma who speaks to Grandpa, and he just remains cheerful. 　　Unnoticed, Grandpa has grown old and can no longer keep up with the sheep; from now on, it will depend on how the younger generations treat him. I’m relieved that all the uncles treat Grandpa very well, and he’s also happy living at Uncle Six’s house. Of course, it’s only human to sometimes see the younger ones be impolite or treat Grandpa poorly. I remember my grandfather clearing land for us to plant alfalfa; whenever it was cloudy or rainy, he could be seen in those gullies, working there. After planting the alfalfa, every summer and autumn he would go to those gullies every day to harvest it. An old man in his eighties bearing such a load, just as if it were the burden of a young person, struggling to make his way along the paths in the gullies day after day. They keep struggling hard for the sake of future generations, so that they can escape poverty. Especially when I go home on holidays, my grandparents stay in the herb fields under the scorching sun instead of coming back home; with temperatures exceeding 30 degrees Celsius, some people even suffer from heatstroke at home, yet those two elders get by with just some bread and porridge during the hottest periods. It’s still the same this year. But they are already over 85 years old – they should be at an age where they should be taking care of themselves. 　　Grandpa is extremely considerate of Grandma; she says that he and Grandpa have never argued, and even when there are disagreements, they discuss things in a respectful manner, always leaving it up to Grandma to make the decision. The two elders always have something to talk about, whether at home or in the fields. Now that their hearing is poor, they speak in loud voices; often they have to repeat a sentence three times. Yet they enjoy their conversations so much and laugh heartily from time to time. Now Grandpa is not well, and Grandma says, “If you leave, come and call me right away; I will suffer a lot if you go.” ”Grandpa’s tears streamed down at that moment; it showed just how reluctant he was to part. At the end of his life, how much pain must have filled his heart. Compared to us, who are so materialistic, they truly knew what love meant. 　　Grandpa is sick this time. It has been two weeks since he last ate anything. After he was sick for a week, his children could no longer bear to see him in that condition and suggested taking him to the hospital, but he refused firmly; he said he wanted to die at home. The children then went to a doctor at the village clinic, who gave him three bottles of fluids before giving up on trying to help him. Now it feels like we’re just waiting for him to die. I don’t know what’s going through his mind right now, but it must be very complicated. There is one thing he definitely doesn’t want his children to have to spend money on. 　　Without Grandpa’s silent efforts, his descendants would never have been able to lead the comfortable life they enjoy today. Sometimes I wonder what Grandpa got in return, and what score he deserves for his life; perhaps only our future generations will understand, or maybe they never will.