Kitty Earle, the author of To the Father, was injured.

I haven't finished sorting the manuscript you left. You have been in heaven 2 10 days.

In the first few days after you left, I was at a loss about everything, as if I had lost my soul. When I get to the office, sometimes I can't remember today's work; Sitting in front of the computer, I want to cry for no reason. When you go to the hospital, you will bypass the geriatric building; Every time I meet your acquaintances, I will stay at a respectful distance from them; Sometimes people call me "dad", and my heart is like a needle; Especially when I heard "My Mom and Dad" sung by Bao, I couldn't control my emotions and burst into tears.

August 1 to August 7, according to folklore, is the fifth seven days after you left, and it should be made by your daughter for your father.

I hastily found out the articles (unpublished articles) that recorded you before, and some of them may be just a few words. In official website, which has the largest number of readers and authors, I published the original words, the price, the message to my father's 87th birthday, my father's speech at the memorial service, my father's urging me to accept the prize, the love from my hometown, the time to come back and see, and the time to close this case. Among them, prose net column recommended 5 articles, the words are like people, my father urged me to receive the prize, and I often came back to see that the place where my dream started ranked first in the weekly list according to the click-through rate. This is what I didn't expect. Maybe it's the power of Jesus, maybe it's the praise of his father.

Yes, it must be.

In 2006, when you knew the excitement when I joined the Jiangsu Writers Association, I smiled brightly. This is your brightest smile in my memory. You said, "When I was young, I published articles in newspapers every day. At most, I published two or three drafts a day in Xinhua Daily. At that time, there was no Jiangsu Writers Association. Otherwise, I must be a member. Today, we have to drink some red wine to celebrate. This is a major event in our family. "

Even if you have been lying in the hospital for more than two years after a stroke, the happiest thing for you is to see me publish an article, read it over and over again, and talk about your thoughts, comments, encouragement and hope. Forget that we are father and daughter, forget that we are in the ward, only the discussion between literary friends, only the frankness between close friends. Seeing that you are extremely happy, I will try to write more to make you happy. In May of 20 15, you got the book "China Excellent Prose Library" and listened to my long article "Writing My Uncle's Five or Seven Verses". You said, "This is the best way to commemorate my uncle, and it is a matter of infinite merit. I am relieved that you will do the same when I leave. "

On August 7th, my mother and I went to Zutangshan Cemetery and brought a handful of white chrysanthemums and five kinds of fruits. I made a table of your favorite food and wine. Mom said that Christ is not interested in this, and my sister said that it would bother you and be bad for you. But dad, I really want to talk to you. I really want to have a channel to release the depressed sadness for a long time. I really want to remember and pay homage to my father in a unique way that you are proud of. ...

Now, on Saturday and Sunday, I can't see the food and fruit before and after me on the school bus, I can't see my busy figure in the hospital, and one message after another from my body is gradually disappearing, but my heart is empty and my spirit is in a trance. I can't find the tension, enrichment, order and happiness you used to be in, just a pile of walking corpses. It is said that "there is no dutiful son before a long bed", but father, I thank you for giving me the opportunity and possibility to be filial, but two and a half years is too short. ...

I didn't write these days after you left. Is it busy work or trivial life that makes me forget what my father expects of me? No, none! I picked it up, but it was too heavy; I looked through it and tears welled up in my eyes. Perhaps, I am afraid to see those familiar handwriting, and I will miss my father more; I picked up your manuscript and read it many times, but I couldn't help myself. I really can't read page by page ... it's not that I don't want to write, it's too sad.

Father, forgive me, please give me some more time, so that I won't cut my nerves so much: please give me another room, so that I can sort out my sad thoughts and write more comprehensively and clearly.

A man called me the other day and asked me to tell him my address. I asked inexplicably, "Do you have the wrong number?"

He said with a strong Nanjing accent, "Yes, I am Lao Wang and you are Lao Li's daughter. The company sent me a 20 16 Nanjing Daily, and I asked them to send it directly to you for your father to read. You send me the address. " Then I just hung up the phone. I want to thank him, and I want to tell him that you don't need it anymore. ...

Father, there are still many manuscripts in your bookcase. I dare not open it, nor have the courage to look at it. I think it will take at least some time. This dust is not for more mystery, but a permanent thought. ...

Outside the window, it is snowing.

Small snowflakes pull me in mid-air, you hold me tight, I hold you tight, clusters, like countless torn cotton balls, the whole world becomes confused. ...

Xue Rui indicates a good year, and the flavor of the year is already very strong.

Last New Year's Eve, our whole family got together in your ward. Yes, this is a reunion, with each and every one of them. But this year, my mother asked everyone to live in Shanghai, in Nanjing, in Nantong and in the south; And repeatedly told me that "the province of this province can eat whatever it wants." Life is better now, and it is usually like the New Year. " I know, mom is afraid of touching that scene. When I went to suguo supermarket, Teacher Dong of the Sixth Hospital asked me, "Why doesn't your father come out to exercise?" Heart, it hurts.

Now, I'm afraid to go shopping. When I see another family happily purchasing new year's goods, I think of you who have already been in far from heaven. ...

I really don't know how to spend this year.

Today, I "will do it". As you told me, I want to talk to my father. But father, do you know how sad you are? Sometimes, I think I may have survived the most painful days, but in fact, the door of memory is still full of sadness and tears. Still a spacious study, I can't see your shadow, even my back; It's still the same old computer. You can't see the words I typed on the screen or the tears dripping on the keyboard anymore.

I am not a Christian, but I believe that when you were in far from heaven, you knew everything. ...