Everyone close to you is dead. Are you afraid of their bodies?

1998 one night in late autumn, without any warning, my father, who was only 63 years old, suddenly committed suicide by taking poison. I remember it was three or four o'clock in the middle of the night, and I was sleeping soundly. When I heard my mother calling my name in the backyard, I felt something was wrong.

When I ran into the yard wearing cotton trousers, I found my father lying on the cold ground in the kitchen of the northernmost wing. I rushed over and shouted at my father, but he didn't respond. I tried to find out with my hands whether my father was breathing. I found that I didn't breathe. I tried to give my father cardiopulmonary resuscitation. I found that it was late and my father's cheeks were cold. My father lying on the ground seems to be asleep, with a serene face, next to a dried-up pesticide bottle.

I dried my tears and sat on the ground. After a long time, my mother pulled me up. I moved a cool bed into the yard, removed the door panel and spread it on the cool bed. My neighbors and I took my father to the cool bed and found a towel to cover his face. At this moment, I was kneeling by my father's bed and couldn't help crying.

I don't know how long I cried, but it was dawn and all the neighbors went home to help. My mother fought back her grief and made a shroud for her father herself (my mother is a tailor). In the morning, the relatives who heard the news got together and dressed her father in a newly made shroud, a new hat and new shoes. My uncle asked me to wash my father's feet and put on socks. When I took off my father's socks and washed his feet, I felt his cold feet, as if he had washed my feet like this when I was a child.

According to the custom in my hometown, the funeral lasts for three days. The next day, my father was cremated, holding a small urn, and seeing that my 63-year-old father had turned into a handful of white ashes, I really felt the shortness of life.

From the moment my father died to lying in the urn, I stayed with him for three days, feeling nothing and crying dry. Because of excessive sadness, I cried three times (my father's cousin, my uncle told me later).

I didn't feel any fear for three days because he was my father.

But on the third night, when I went to my neighbor's house 200 meters away to return the rented quilt, I walked into a dark and narrow alley. It seems that someone is following in the quiet alley. I felt my hair stand on end and I started running. Panting and running to the door, I was relieved and dared to look back. At that moment, I really felt what is creepy and cold sweat for the first time.

After my father was cremated, the urn was placed in a house in the backyard. Every time I go to the backyard to get something, I run to it, always in a panic. Tell my mom that it would be better if my mom told me to talk more in front of my dad. So after my father was cremated until May 7, I went to see his portrait and the wooden box containing my favorite relatives every day. During that time, I smoked three packs of cigarettes every day at a young age because of my incomparable guilt and yearning for my father.

According to the custom of my family, I burned my father on May 7th, and then I went out to work. After all, my mother is 60 years old. After my father's death, the mountain behind me collapsed, and I have to rely on myself in the future.

1999 During the Spring Festival, I spent a holiday without my father with my mother, brother and sister, and I continued to work. 1999 On the eve of Tomb-Sweeping Day, my father's urn was sent underground. By the time I came back from the Dragon Boat Festival, the grass on my father's grave had grown luxuriantly. When I got home, I put down my luggage and went straight to the field where my father was buried. Three or four hundred meters later, I went to the field and saw my father's grave far away, and I was already in tears. I stayed at my father's grave for three hours that morning, and I said everything I didn't say to my father when I was 26. Unfortunately, I have never seen my father's kind face, simple and honest smiling face, nor have I heard his unhurried exhortation.

Today, my father has left me for 21 years, and his face is still deeply engraved in my memory. Every time I go home to visit my father's grave, I can't restrain my inner sadness. My father's death also brought me lifelong regret and guilt. My father left in such a hurry that he didn't honor him for a day, and his old man didn't see me get married. I am still living in debt and regret for my father. Maybe one day when I leave this world, I will be free.

I hope to have an afterlife, want to be my father's son and be a sensible child. Although I have married and had children in other places and lived for more than 20 years, I once told my son that when I left this world one day, I would be sent back to my hometown in Anhui and buried next to my father to accompany him forever.

Every time I think of my father, or hear the song "Dad" by Wang Feng, or see the happy scenes of other people's father and son in life or film and television dramas, I miss my father more and more and feel depressed.

Seeing this problem makes my mood even sadder. Not only will I not be afraid of the remains of my deceased relatives, but I will be even more reluctant to part with them. It was three days after my wife died, just before she was cremated. I made a request to the staff of the funeral home: please ask the staff to push my wife's body out of the crystal coffin cover. Let me have a good look at her one last time. After my repeated requests, the staff agreed to my request. My wife's body was pushed out, and I rearranged her clothes and various parts of her body from top to bottom. I kissed my wife's forehead and kissed her face. Comb my wife's hair repeatedly, and comb her hair for the last time. I have no fear of the remains of my relatives, but I just want to see their faces again. Goodbye, really goodbye.

1999 winter, my sister was 27 years old. The first day, we spoke on the phone. She told me that my family was fine, which reassured me that she was close to home and would go home to visit my mother and grandmother every few days, so that I didn't have to worry.

After only a few dozen hours, my sister disappeared. When I arrived at her home, her face was still vivid, like sleeping, and her body was covered in a quilt. I thought she would suddenly open her eyes and say, why are you crying? I just fell asleep, but unfortunately I stayed with my sister until late at night, and her body became more and more stiff.

She is more than one year younger than me. She is quiet, shy, timid and loves to laugh. This is a joke that no one can laugh at. She can laugh when she thinks of it. She is a girl, but she can do many jobs that men do. She can carry water, spray pesticides and use animals. She is an expert at work. She is my sister, but like my sister, she works for me, making me feel at ease at school and helping me send meals to school.

I can't figure out why she died suddenly. She is ill, but not fatal. She has a precious son of several years old. She didn't want to kill herself. I want to report the case and find out the cause of her death. However, I was afraid that her intact body would be dissected, and I couldn't sleep all night. I don't know what to do.

I remember reading a book that a corpse can express and tell people the truth. I observed it carefully when I changed my sister's clothes. Unfortunately, I am not a forensic doctor, and I hate my indecision very much, so I let her husband bury it hastily.

Why should I be afraid of her health? Outside, it is still my sister.

Later, countless nights, I dreamed of her again.

What are the people you love afraid of! Eight years ago, the night my old mother died, I held my body and held the hand of the old man for 23 days, all night! 23 days ago, my husband died of liver cancer, thin! On my deathbed, I held his cold hand and kept stroking his severely disfigured face, kissing and kissing, hurting and hurting! The pain is hard to see! When I was in funeral home cremation, my family was afraid that I would be too sad. I won't go in when I confirm the body, but I have to go in! Seeing him pushed out of the freezer, there was only love and sadness! In the farewell hall, I clung to his feet and couldn't let go! Looking up and seeing the water droplets oozing out due to the temperature difference, everyone can't help but gently suck them up with paper towels! Because there are still two days before burial, we will take the ashes home to the mourning hall and talk to him about our thoughts! Every night when I sleep, I will touch the urn and portrait and say to him, if you know anything, come with me and we will meet in my dream! If you go, you will be separated from heaven forever and never have a chance to meet again! If you don't cherish the last chance to meet your loved ones, you will be afraid! What is there to be afraid of? Close relatives! Even if there is such a thing as a ghost, will he harm you? Twenty-three days, I hope my husband can enter my dream every day!

The person who asks such a question must be a child, at least psychologically, he is getting old.

When a relative who has been with you day and night dies, no one will have the idea of fear except giving up. Personally, I think that as long as a person has gone through the life-and-death separation from his loved ones, he will understand what is maturity and what is sadness, and he will understand that there is no major event in this world except life and death.

When my father died, as the eldest son, I personally helped him wash and change clothes, and stayed alone for several nights. At that time, what I thought most was why my father left when the days were just right. We were brought up by suffering, but we didn't enjoy any happiness in the end. I miss him so much that he suddenly woke up and said he wasn't dead.

Although I am an atheist, I seem to hear the sound of beating gongs and drums in the distance during those mourning nights. Later, I asked others if they heard me, but they all saidno. I always wondered if God couldn't stand it. I felt that my father had worked hard all his life, but he didn't enjoy the happiness of his children, so he arranged such a big program to see him.

So, subject, you shouldn't be afraid, and you don't have to be afraid. Relatives are relatives, whether before or after death.

No. Because they are relatives, you don't think they will hurt you or scare you; If you are a stranger, you will feel terrible: because you think they will hurt you and scare you like they were born.

Therefore, being afraid is just a psychological feeling, and everything is just an inner illusion. Mountains, rivers, plants, fish and insects, good people and bad people, and sentimental infatuation are all inner creations, and the world was formed from the beginning.

I'm not afraid. Father left us in April this year 1. I feel very sad about it. We are buried here. He lay in a crystal coffin and kept vigil at night. When I am alone, I will open the cloth on the crystal coffin, look at him and finally enter the coffin. I still hold his hand and hold his face with both hands. I'm heartbroken, not afraid. Now I use the cup that my father drank before his death. Every time I go back to my hometown, my mother and I sleep in my father's bed (my mother has a cerebral hemorrhage and her IQ is like that of a two-year-old child). I put some clothes of my father's life in my room. Every time I go back, I will hug his clothes and smell them hard, feeling that my father is still there ... if only I really had a soul after I die, so that my father can come back to see us. ...

I won't. My father left suddenly on the evening of March this year 15 10. 1/kloc-0 just went to bed at 0: 00, and my family called and told me to go back to Henan at once. Even at midnight, there are no flights. I quickly booked a plane ticket for the next day. I also lost sleep that night, tossing and turning in bed. On second thought, he is also 84 years old. He does all kinds of evil and has a heavy heart. I have never experienced the scene of parting from my relatives. I'm thinking about going home. How should I face it? I didn't get home until midnight 1 1 the next day. My family and the villagers' group have arranged everything at home. Father lay in the frozen crystal coffin, although he didn't cry in his heart, but his tears fell down. I sat in front of my mother's bed and listened to her tell me how my father left. The next day, it was also the day when my father was buried, at noon. I began to prepare to send my father to the cemetery. When I asked my children and seniors to wash my father's face, I also touched his hand. The weather is cold and hard. My father's expression is very kind. I didn't shed a tear when I came back from the cemetery. What I thought was whether my father left suddenly because he was angry or because his sons were not filial to their parents, including me.

I'm afraid that when my mother died, I was already in grade four or five. It was summer, and on the way back from school in the afternoon in the country, when I skipped home, my neighbor told me: Are you still so happy that your mother left? Hearing this, I seem to understand what it means, but I don't seem to understand and I don't seem to believe it. During the days when I worked at home, I was extremely scared. I would secretly glance at my mother lying on the door panel and give her incense. I will see her mouth swollen and rotten, and I never dare to go near it. After all, I heard some ghost stories when I was a child.

I think, years after my mother died, I will dream of that kind mother at night. Whenever I dream in a dream, I will always be happy, and I will think that my mother has come back to life. The heart that has lost and longed for maternal love is really a happy dream to meet my mother. However, dreams are dreams after all, and they will wake up sooner or later!

1982, now almost forty years old, married and working, and getting by. Now, I haven't dreamed of her for many years, perhaps because of the pressure of life, perhaps for too long, we have forgotten each other.

They say I dream every day. I don't know if I can dream about you tonight, mom.

I experienced where you will go with my parents. To tell you the truth, I'm really, really afraid of the bodies of my relatives. That kind of fear is indescribable, it is an extreme fear.

At the age of twenty, my father died of illness. During my father's serious illness, I didn't want to eat most things, and I couldn't eat any more. Facing my 70-year-old father, there is nothing I can do. The countryside in the 1980s was really too backward and poor. People, old and young, who are seriously ill, rest at home. Seeing that their seriously ill father could hardly feed them, there was only rice and side dishes left at home.

"Dad, what do you want to eat?" And "I want to eat some noodles." It was really difficult at that time. This is a planned substance that money cannot buy. The nearest supply and marketing cooperative couldn't buy it, so he asked his neighbors that rice could be exchanged in a town about forty miles away. Carrying a few kilograms of rice with a yellow schoolbag, I walked dozens of miles back and forth to get noodles, which satisfied my father's last wish.

Fear of the bodies of loved ones is a matter of mentality. Meeting parents' wishes is a matter of virtue and filial piety. The departure of relatives is a law that we cannot change. For us, filial piety is the most important and timely.