An article mourning an old friend

Dear people around us will always leave us inadvertently. The person who can blow water with us is gone. The following is an article I compiled for you about mourning for your old friend. I hope it works for you!

Article 1 Mourning for the Old Friend: Nostalgia

On new year's day, I accidentally saw y's QQ again, and that strange signature:? I'm y's ex-girlfriend. I helped him write down the number. Don't think too much. ? It seems that I glanced at it some time ago and didn't pay much attention. This guy is so strange that he can do anything and say anything. Anyway, he is free. Let's go to his space and have a look. This fellow has a lot of nutritious things in his mind. Let's see if there is anything new. Homepage, blog, or those? Suddenly, the message board jumped out like an electric shock: Brother y, we are still brothers in the afterlife. Oh, my God, my God! Look down at the teacher, will you always be there? 、? Brother Y, you are so diligent that you are only one step away from success, but you just walked away quietly, right? On or after 25 February 2009?

Today is February 20 10/4, the first day of the first lunar month in China, the Valentine's Day in the west. Fireworks are set off outside to decorate the festival. My favorite person is spending Valentine's Day with another woman, and I feel lonely in my room alone. However, some people are lonelier than me, and some people are lonelier than me. A friend who has known me for seven and a half years left unconsciously, and I never have the opportunity to experience all the joys and sorrows again, never again.

At the moment I lost it, I always didn't believe it was true, just like I lost my wallet three days ago and always thought I had misplaced it. I always thought there were still a few boxes in my backpack, and I was sure to find it. However, after all, I lost it, I can't find it, and I can't come back. It's just two bank cards, and I don't have much cash. If the money is gone, you can earn it again. Even if you have no money, there is still life. Where there is life, there is tomorrow, and where there is life, there is hope. This guy Y just went there. The last time I saw him was six months ago. I saw him with a girl student in Innovation Street. I just said hello and didn't say much. It was a rainy day, and the continuous rain was the last picture of Y in my mind.

Please tell me this is not true. One day I will meet you in the street, I will hear your teasing with a bad cough, and I will also hear your funny joke: Good brothers don't wear clothes?

On a distant summer night in 2003, we had a long phone conversation for the first time about your girlfriend at that time. You said: Actually, I'm just a cup of coffee. I don't know what flavor I can make. I'm just trying, with wine, sugar, milk and ice. I hope I can mix my own flavor. That year, I visited your cabin, your spotless room, and all kinds of wine labels collected by you and that girl. That year, you told us interesting stories about Singapore and Macau. That year, my unhappiness was gradually infected by your happiness, and what remained in my memory was the splendid summer and the blooming lilacs.

In the following years, we had little contact, but we met once or twice a year and talked on the phone several times. You have been trying to pursue your dreams, and I have been wandering aimlessly. You are not an indulgent person, but you treat me as a friend. There is no if in life, but I hope there is! When you are ill, I will go to the hospital to see you. When you are at home, I will cook a meal for you. When you are worried about your students, I can help you find two more people. When you are frustrated, I will do my best as a good friend as you comfort me. But I didn't have a chance to do so. I only feel guilty about you. In summer, I completely collapsed because of lovelorn love. I want to find a quiet place to heal. I tell you, I want to learn to draw. So you sent me to your brother's studio, and I became a free student. But I was so disappointed that I gave up after a few days that you couldn't tell the person you love. But I didn't explain a word to you. I just lost a word in Q: and treated me as dead. I didn't expect this sentence to become a prophecy. I did try several times and didn't die. But you walked quietly in front of me. Since then, no one has seen me fooling around willfully, and no one has said to me in the street with a playful smile: it is better to meet each other than to invite each other? ; No one satirizes me:? Sister, did you write those sour articles again?

How can human life be so fragile? I regret learning the news of your death so late (no, I might as well not know, I don't want to believe it is true). I don't even know how you died, but I can't ask. I don't want to stimulate people around me to fall into pain again.

Writing has always liked sadness and put itself in the abyss of pain, but what is more painful than death? Such a fresh life is gone, so the sunshine is positive. I can't see his face or his back. I can only say to his dead soul, rest in peace and have a good trip?

The second mourning for the old friend: the sound of the piano in heaven

Your fingertips are the powder of pearls, or the Leng Yan of roses. Raindrops are shining with melancholy back and soul. On the way to the west, this sentence still echoes in Huasheng's garden. You call in heaven with your senses. At this time, the nightingale is silent, and loneliness is more pervasive in the long night. Do you spread your angel wings and curl up in the candlelight?

We know each other on BBS, understand each other in words and attract each other in rhythm. Whenever the moonlight shines all over the city, the sea soaks the beach, and the sunset sets off the coastline, you will always light a cigarette and tap the notes of the lyrics with your hands, thus revealing your feelings, like a girl's prayer and a Mona Lisa's smile. For life, you have too much sadness and helplessness, and for the world of mortals, you have too much longing and obscurity.

Life is just a natural process. In the rolling smoke, there are often some deep feelings that we can't have. Let's bend down with a smile and count the memories like flying beads and splashing jade. Once you said to me: "the rain will stop eventually;" Life, too, will eventually stop, and it will be a hundred years in a blink of an eye. How short life is, and we will grow old and eventually die in the blink of an eye. Perhaps, I will never understand what the end of life means, and I can't let go of myself in the face of future confusion. Maybe only you understand that in your eyes, everything becomes ordinary, slim and finally forgotten.

Do you remember? We played an elegy in Lotus Rhyme and Fragrance, we cooked wine in Emotional Lounge, and we shuttled through the rain in Qing Ci Gu Yun. I am a night reader of the moon, and you are a listener of the night. Once you liked to shuttle between words, once you were affectionate. You wrote notes with raindrops with your own heart, showing us the unyielding wheel of fate.

At this time, after the cold rain, the city is full of empty winds. Empty sadness grows wildly in the courtyard of my memory and I don't listen. I like the rain in the sky very much. It seems that we have gone back in time. We listen to the rain and smell the rain together. You said there was a rain in our name, but it was two completely different rains. What about this time? Does it rain in heaven? Do you pray in flames that the afterlife will be born on a rainy night?

I haven't written anything for a long time since I left Huasheng Forum. In fact, it is not a lack of inspiration, but a lack of people like you who can understand me. I remember the first time, I wrote you an article, which was your first operation. At midnight, I prayed for you in our Lotus Rhyme Fragrance, and I called the moderator of Huasheng to pray for you. Finally, you saw our smiles and heard our blessings. You will travel in the "ancient rhyme of Qing Ci". Now, I'll write you another article, which you'll never see. I will always remember your sparkling eyes in the piano on a rainy night, and it is easy to remember in the rain at midnight. Yes, there are many friends in life, but few confidants, even fewer intimate people, and even fewer people can really understand you! We meet by chance with BBS, origin and telephone line, so that this friendship will be preserved forever, buried in my memory and circulated in BBS.

The scenery, fireworks, starry sky, too bright text scenes along the way degenerated into black and white, pure white, and finally pale, and the sun and moon marks remained unchanged. I have been witnessing your bright colors, stopping in the turbulent crowd and being hugged by the past. I think I will never forget you! Watson knows your friends and will never forget you. Everyone scatters your poems in the air, and we spray your poems in raindrops, which will always pervade our misty rain in the south of the Yangtze River.

Postscript:

My old friend "Piano on a Rainy Night" died in 2007 1 month 1 1. He had a serious heart disease and had an operation for a while, but he left us. I liked huasheng forum best before my death. He always can't sleep at night because of his physical discomfort. He wrote some poems and essays. He is a friend whom I admire very much. Today, he received a letter from his good friend Rainy Night Piano.

The third article about mourning for old friends

March 1 1, 2065438, when I was a sophomore, my roommate and I went to the water room to wash and pee after the power failure at night.

When the water was released, I asked Xiaojin, a classmate standing by, what was the harvest of Warcraft tonight.

Xiaojin shivered and said, nothing has been gained. All the equipment he brushed out was given to the girls in the team. As a result, he realized that it was a girl disguised as a shemale, and it was cheaper for others to brush BOSS all night.

We laughed in the water room for a while, and then went back to the dormitory.

Xiaojin's dormitory is next door to mine. In addition to classmates and neighbors, they usually rub cigarettes, snacks and instant noodles with each other, and they are familiar with each other's hobbies and daily life. Xiaojin is honest, and his biggest hobby is playing games. Every time he is on the team, he always passes the test smoothly and narrowly wins.

As soon as I climbed into bed that night, I heard a loud noise next door, followed by shouts. Someone kept calling Xiaojin's name. We rushed to the next door and found Xiaojin unconscious and convulsing on the ground.

Xiaojin's roommate shouted: It's a heart attack. Find the medicine quickly. ? We found the medicine, put it in Xiaojin's mouth and blew it into his mouth. The medicine went down, and we also called 120. But I'm still in a hurry. Several of them want to take Xiaojin directly to the hospital. But as long as we help Xiaojin, his spasm will get worse immediately. Because we have no handling experience, we can only wait for the arrival of the ambulance.

Coincidentally, there is a district-level hospital next to our school. The doctor came quickly and rescued him at the entrance of the dormitory. All the boys in the corridor came out, all the boys in our department were there, and everyone stood quietly watching. Roommates kept talking to Xiaojin, hoping to keep him awake. Everyone's heart is in their throats. An hour later, the doctor was sweating all over. Finally, he sat on the ground feebly and covered Xiaojin with white cloth. Then Xiaojin was carried out by the medical staff.

We didn't have time to react during the whole process. The teacher told us to go back to rest and keep quiet, but none of us moved.

Suddenly a classmate cried, so slowly that we all dared not look at him. After staying in the same place for a long time, we returned to our rooms one after another, but we still couldn't accept it. A lively person, one second you are talking about games, and the next he has gone to another world.

A few days after the incident, Xiaojin's parents came to the dormitory to collect relics. We hid in the dormitory, afraid to face this scene. My brother next door arranged everything, and my parents held back their emotions and left quietly with things.

Then Jin's funeral. All the students took part spontaneously. No one asked for leave and no one ran away. It was very cold that morning, and the winter in Changchun was not over yet. I bought a black coat specially, and some students dyed their yellow hair back to black overnight. The girls took off their jewelry and the boys hung their beards. My girlfriend at that time tied a rope to my hand and said it was auspicious.

We filled two school buses and drove slowly to the crematorium in the suburbs. No one spoke on the road, withered trees pointed to a clear road, and the whole city was silent and serious.

After arriving at the crematorium, a woman came first, who looked a few years older than us. She bowed first, then distributed white flowers to everyone and said, Thank you, thank you for coming to see my brother off, thank you. ?

Pass me the white flowers, one of which is still wet. It is clearly a piece of paper, but it seems to have suddenly come to life. I hung up and watched my sister get off the bus. The teacher gestured at the door and we followed.

Just entering the lobby, I saw Xiaojin lying in a crystal coffin, with a calm face, as if he had just fallen asleep. Flower, we face him, face our family, bow, bow again, bow again. Then the family members nodded to us.

Then Xiaojin was pushed to be cremated, and his mother suddenly collapsed at this moment and said something that I couldn't hear clearly and didn't want to hear clearly. The girl standing in front shook at the boy, and a brother in his dormitory cried and knelt on the ground.

Xiaojin was sent in after all, and we came out from the main entrance of the lobby. Uncle Jin shook hands with each of us and said? Healthy and healthy, study hard? . He helps every crying classmate wipe his tears, and he slaps every child in the face like a father.

After walking out of the lobby, we went around to the back and burned something for Xiaojin. Chassis, monitor, Warcraft card, his favorite snacks, in short, we keep throwing some into the stove, just tell us what he lacks in the dream, don't hold it back, let alone stay at home.

The fire burned for a long time and no one left. Some girls seem to cut off a strand of hair and throw it in. We have been waiting for the fire to go out, as if those things have not been burned out, so we can't rest assured.

When we left, our counselor, Mr. Qin, was at the door of the car, washing everyone's hands with white wine. Her tears kept hanging on her face, but there was no sound. I didn't know I was like her until I got on the bus.

On the way back, someone kept looking back, as if something had been left there. We didn't get off the bus when we got back to school, as if the journey didn't slow us down.

At this moment, Miss Qin stood in the aisle of the school bus and said to us. Everyone will have their own identity when they come to this world. Some identities are born to you, and some identities need to be discovered, distinguished and recognized. Children, students, future parents, these will be your identity. Different stages of life will give us different experiences, but always remember the responsibility behind identity. People don't live entirely for themselves. I hope you are healthy and happy. Go back, go back to your identities. ?

I got up, got off the bus and walked into the school. After class, the students seem to be talking and laughing in the teaching building. We mixed with them with a serious expression, as if they were different and as if they were the same.

My classmate's name is Jin Chengyuan. Today, you open Renren. Com search for this name, you can still see his classmates' messages mourning him on his homepage message board. Six years have passed, and I wonder if he is doing well there.