Funeral and suona

Inadvertently, I was screened by the news, saying that I knelt down because I wanted to increase the arrangement of "a hundred birds pay homage to the phoenix", and there was a curse, saying that it was a moral kidnapping; There is a pity voice, saying it is sentimental, but it is actually inappropriate; There is only a lack of support. What I want to say has nothing to do with movies, but with suona, memory and death.

I first tasted the pain of losing my loved ones when I was nine years old. My grandfather died, an old man who liked to tell one-liners Compared with him, my grandfather seems too serious. This is also the first funeral I have attended since I can remember. The funeral was organized by grandpa four's three sons, and the scale was not small. Everything continues the customs of my hometown, being polite and honest.

When I was nine years old, I was a child in a fog. I knew my family had died. Adults inside and outside are very busy. I am wearing mourning clothes, with white mourning cloth tied to my head and white cloth covered on my shoes, which makes me very upset, because it is inevitable that my classmates will cast sympathetic eyes at school. I like the white cloth tied on my head very much, because a cousin tied the cloth into flowers and tied it on her long black hair. It looks good and makes me envy it. Because my father doesn't allow me to have long hair, my hair is only half an inch longer than that of ordinary boys in primary school for five years. There are two reasons: First, let me concentrate on my studies and don't always think about wearing flowers and powder; Second, prevent lice from growing on the head. Every time I cut my hair, I make a determined effort in front of the mirror and don't want to go to school. Finally, my dad grabbed my short hair and pushed it to school. So when I saw the white flowers and black hair on my cousin's head, I hated my father even more for letting me cut my hair. But dad is very busy, helping his uncles arrange funerals, so naturally I can't ignore him. I still hate him. I was envious of what I saw. My cousin also designed a hairstyle for me according to local conditions, laboriously picked a pigtail on the top of my head, and then tied a white filial piety cloth and tied a flower on it. I think I'm beautiful. I imagine it as Angie Chiu's version of Mrs White Snake. This made me forget the sadness I should have at the funeral and jumped for joy.

Children's happiness is simple, but adults' sadness is varied, especially at funerals. Most of the people who are close to the deceased during the wake are their own close relatives, mostly daughters. Daughters-in-law are generally reluctant to go forward, let alone distant relatives. Hometown custom, the coffin must be placed at home for seven days before it can be buried, and it will be buried in three days. Grandpa four's mourning hall is relatively simple. There is a bowl filled with sesame oil in front of the coffin, which contains oily chubby lamps. This is an ever-burning lamp, which has been on since the moment the deceased passed away. Further on, there are papery ones, tall buildings, blue bricks and green tiles, and teenagers with guns next to them. In front of the paper, there are coffins and sacrificial tables, and in front of the table are mats for people who come to pay homage.

Every noon or evening, neighbors will come to pay homage to the deceased and present some paper money to show their memory and blessings. Often at this time, they will bow down and kowtow before the spirit, men will give gifts, and women will kneel down and burn paper (cry) on the spot. It is almost unnecessary to shed tears, or they are afraid that they will be embarrassed without tears. As soon as they kneel down, they will be helped by someone covering their faces, or they will know when they clap their arms, and they will cry. At this time, the dutiful sons and daughters at the wake will cry with them. This kind of crying is the saddest, heartbreaking and painful, and the listener is sad. You just know that the death of a dead person is so sad. Sometimes, I am dragged into this crying by my aunts, and then I can't help crying when I am infected. At this time, the neighbor who served me here motioned for me to stop crying, so I stood up sadly and wiped my tears for my aunts who had been crying on the ground. The next day, their voices were hoarse, and their eyes were like swimming bladders filled with water, so they wanted to ooze water. Without undertaker, everyone would huddle around the coffin and talk about Grandpa Four's past. It is often said that some things make daughters sad and daughters-in-law look askance. The dead have been freed, and the living have not lost their grievances.

At night, my mother wouldn't let me go to Lingqian, saying that I was young, my soul was unstable, and I was afraid of catching evil spirits. I am naturally afraid, so I will find friends to play with after dinner. There is nothing interesting except counting the stars. Even playing hide-and-seek, it gets dark at night, and I can't jump the rubber band.

Two nights before the funeral, Grandpa Four's uncles invited a trumpeter to perform, which was very interesting. Trumpeters are now similar to bands in a broad sense. Generally, there are four people, three men and one woman, one plays the erhu, one plays blowing sheng and one plays the suona. There was no suona in the evening performance, probably because the high notes were too high to make the soul uneasy, so the erhu was the main venue at night. In the process of singing, there will be guest drummers and gongs and drums, which will be very lively for a time. They can sing plays and songs, but operas and songs are slightly sad. The host family will set the table for them at the door, pick up a bright light bulb, set the table and drinks, and then they will start singing while eating. Old people in Ji Gu like to listen. They move a stool from far away, or spread some corn stalks on the ground from nearby places. It is warm and soft. Young people don't like this. Most of them will watch TV at home, but they are too lazy to go out. The children are crowded together, but not for singing. Sometimes cheerful, sometimes emotional, sometimes high-pitched, sometimes low, singing through the night, soothing the souls of the dead and the living. The unique pathos of erhu is always touching. I didn't understand why those old people were so moved before, but now I finally understand that it is understanding, warmth, destination and ending. The figure is shaking and the night is thick. What can move them may be the last glimmer of hope for fate.

The funeral day is the most crucial day, and it is also the most lively day for people to come and go. In the morning, relatives came to worship with baskets. The things in this basket are also exquisite. Generally, we should put about 20 steamed buns in the basket, cover them with flower towels, put some silver paper on them and put them on the table in front of the mourning hall to show respect for the deceased. Most of the morning is to pay homage to relatives. At noon, after dinner, we will have a funeral on auspicious occasions.

Wait until all relatives and helpers have finished paying homage. The coffin carrier entered the room where the coffin was parked with a hemp rope and a solid pole the thickness of the child's arm, and tied the coffin. This is also a delicate work, and it must be tied evenly. The weight borne by the eight coffin bearers must be even, otherwise someone will be overweight and the coffin will tilt, which will affect the stability of the deceased. The person who carries heavy objects must be a strong young man with the strength and skills to carry the weight of the coffin. In order to use the heart and strength of eight people in one place, another role is needed at this time, mainly to give orders and balance power. This is the role of my father, even though this is the coffin of my fourth grandfather. He was wearing a coffin, holding a mourning staff and yelling at the top of his voice, trying to drown out the suona sound that had just begun to blow. Two young people next to the coffin, one carrying two long benches, because according to the custom, the funeral procession has to stop at each intersection to pay homage to its neighbors for many years and burn a lot of paper money, so it is necessary to put the coffin on the benches.

When the suona rang, that is, the moment when the coffin was carried, the harem in the room was full of sorrow and joy, and the daughter-in-law was the first to help the spirit, followed by the relative relatives. The farther back, the farther the door. I once experienced this scene at my grandfather's funeral. The moment I woke up, my heart was filled with uncontrollable sadness and sadness. At that time, the sound of suona, whining, shouting with head held high, and firecrackers prepared by someone in the room were mixed into a lively sound, which made people feel tears. I was in the white crowd behind the coffin, but I was always pressed by my aunt, because I always wanted to see the surrounding situation, which was obviously out of place. To tell the truth, when I left the gate, I felt less sad, probably shocked by the roaring cry.

At the crossroads, the motorcade stopped. At this time, the eldest son will fall into the basin to save the dead from disaster. Rural people prefer boys. In addition to playing the role of a pillar and carrying on the family line, there is also a big reason, that is, someone fell into a fishing basin a hundred years later, which is very important to them, a ceremony and a perfection. Grandpa four's son cried for a hundred years, which seems to be the reason for crying. The eldest son is dripping with a big willow branch that is about to sprout. The other two sons smoked a little and bowed their heads. The ground was wet, with runny nose and saliva, and of course tears.

The funeral procession is also very particular. The first to clear the way was the trumpeter. Suona is playing "A Hundred Birds at the Phoenix", which makes people nervous and tearful. This is a magical thing. I can still recall the voice, but I can't find the right words to describe it. There is a kind of wanton hegemony in melodious music, which seems to violate your feelings, whether it is. Perhaps, when I am very old, I will find my home when I hear this voice, and I will no longer be afraid of death. The high-pitched suona and low-pitched sheng, coupled with the sound of gongs and drums, will attract many people to tears.

Behind the trumpeter is a paper queue, with thugs guarding the hospital, handsome and extraordinary girls, and delicate and clever girls; The most important thing is the exquisite high-tile house, which is conducive to stepping out of the sedan chair; There are also horses with fluttering manes and stocky bulls; Dazzling Jinshan Yinshan. These colored papers make the living people feel more comfortable. When they get there, they will never live in adobe houses again. They will live a comfortable life and be attended to. A few years later, an old man with cancer calmly drank pesticide, and it is said that he died laughing after drinking it. You see, sometimes death is actually a relief for people, because they have suffered too much before they die.

Behind the noisy paper is a coffin. The dark coffin dazzled in the sun, and the thick rope tied to it made the whole coffin look small, quiet, solemn and lifeless. Behind them are people crying on the side of the coffin, some sobbing, some cursing while crying, some crying out of breath, and some squatting on the ground to draw circles. Because my aunts were crying too much and lying on the ground weakly, I was given a new task, that is, helping my aunts, and I finally had a chance to stand up and watch the whole scene. Aunt slapped the coffin hard and kept calling "Dad ~ Dad ~". Her eyes were hardly opened, and her tears were mixed with her nose. She seems to be wronged and extremely sad. She complained about why grandpa left so early and why those stupid decisions made before made her feel very painful now. She almost fainted and was awakened by the person who pinched her. Later, I really couldn't get up, so I had to go to my mother and be her little crutch. There are many people around, as if watching a touching performance. The children giggled and put it on. The old people sighed and shook their heads, and the soft-hearted young people had tears in their eyes.

Finally, the funeral procession left the village, people carrying heavy objects moved coffins rhythmically, and people with tied paper rushed to the cemetery, letting the wind blow away those colorful papers. Other people in white mourning gathered in twos and threes to go to the cemetery. The suona had stopped and could only be sent to the village entrance. The cemetery is in the ground, and there are several old graves near the tunnel, some of which belong to my great-grandfather, and some belong to my great-grandfather. The man who carried the burden put the coffin in the grave with masculine songs. Fresh soil is full of vitality, but it is destined to accommodate a dead person. As soon as the first shovel of the eldest son was dug, others began to bury it, and there was another heartbreaking cry. Burned silver paper is a headache. When I was crying, the grave was completely finished. Fresh soil, fresh soil, fresh soil will eventually grow green grass and wild flowers.

I suddenly felt parting, grandpa four will sleep here forever and never wake up. He won't talk to me so much after driving the carriage. His carriage, his adobe house and his vermicelli are all going. This is a cold fact that no one can refute.

Speaking of suona, it turns out that this is an ancient sadness. So I can't bear to lose it. Losing it hurts my whole body and soul.