Thank you for your mother's death.

Dear uncles and brothers, relatives and friends, folks,

Good morning everyone. Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to attend your mother's funeral.

My mother ended her bumpy and hard life at 6: 55 p.m. on February 26th, 20th18th lunar month (April 1 1), leaving her beloved children and relatives and friends forever, leaving us with endless thoughts and grief.

My mother was born on September 25th, 1937 at the age of eighty. Life is 70 years old, and 80 years old is a lucky star. Although we know that heaven has its own laws, birth, aging, illness and death are natural laws, parents are still unwilling to give up their children, regardless of whether they live long or not. Parents are here, life has a place to go, parents are gone, and life has only the way home. Mother is here, home is here, and mother is not here, so we are orphans.

Standing in front of my mother's spirit, I cried, the music was sad, and my eyes were blurred. Looking back on my 80 years of hard work, it was ordinary and great.

Niang was born in wartime, lacking food and clothing, and wandering all her life. She lost her father when she was young, lived alone with her relatives and spent a miserable childhood in exile. At the age of fifteen, hand in hand with my father, two young couples started from scratch and worked hard. They were like swallows holding mud nests and built a home for us to shelter from the wind and rain. A bowl of chopsticks, with painstaking efforts, has nurtured our eight brothers and sisters and propped up a sky of love for us. At that time, although we were poor, we were happy.

In that era of earning work points, we were often in debt, but my mother and her sisters earned enough work points, and the difficulty can be imagined. In that era of lack of clothes and food, clothes were often worn in large pieces and patched, but my mother would rather be hungry and tired, and she would try her best to give us clothes to eat.

I can't forget my mother's hard work in the field, her spinning and weaving in the cold night under kerosene lamps, and her hard work of cutting firewood up the mountain to take care of our eight children. There is a play that sings: the left is wet for the right, the left and right are wet together, and the mother's chest is warm and dry. Isn't this a true portrayal of the old lady taking care of us?

Finally, when we grow up, my mother should be happy, but my father died young. Our family is on the verge of collapse. Mother wiped away her tears and provoked the burden of life, leading our stormy home out of the predicament.

Mother's life is ordinary and great. In the world, she can be described as a mortal, but at home, she is a great person. The production team won numerous awards for their labor and had no complaints about filial piety. It teaches children to be lenient and strict, and has won a reputation of being kind to neighbors. It is strong and upright all its life, kind to others, optimistic and humorous, fearless in the face of suffering, grateful to others, noble and respected.

Now, we are married, and it's time to pay off our debts, but my mother suddenly left. The tree wants to be quiet, but the wind will not stop. My son wants to raise and doesn't want to live with relatives. Mom, your kindness is higher than the sky and deeper than the sea. Your morality is praised all over the world. How can you talk about what happened? I can't call my mother back for a long time, and a thousand words turn into three bows. Thank you for your kindness. Let's pray together: mom, have a nice trip.

Finally, on behalf of my brothers and sisters, I would like to express my heartfelt thanks to all my relatives and friends and my folks. Your arrival has given us great comfort and help. Thanks again.

Bow and thank you.

20 18/4/ 17