Every year near the time of the Qingming Festival, there is always a faint inexplicable sadness in the heart, not very strong, but also lingering, so in the heart around, entangled. The weather these days is very good, I do not know, the day of the Qingming Festival, a flurry of rain will come as scheduled. As if with this rain, Qingming can appear more of its light sadness and a hint of memory flavor. It is the Qingming into the rain, but also the rain set off the Qingming. Looking at the sprinkling of rain, it is more able to attract people's hearts that kind of light sadness and longing. When I was a teenager, Qingming Festival and rain, in my impression is just a beautiful picture. In the drizzle of the wind, a poor poet riding a horse to catch the road, leaning toward a small shepherd boy, the shepherd boy stood beside the road, one hand holding a whip, one hand pointing to a grass hut. In the sky above the hut, a red wine streamer looms in the thin drizzle. This probably comes from the poem "Qingming". "The rain falls one after another during the Qingming Festival, and the pedestrians on the road want to break their souls. Where can I find a tavern? The shepherd boy points to the apricot blossom village." In my carefree years, this poem gave me such a peaceful and beautiful mood. The carefree days of youth are always short-lived, just like a kite launched in childhood, which disappears without a trace when its string is broken, and cannot be found anywhere. Gradually, Qingming for me, there is more a hint of faint sadness, more and more heavy, especially after the departure of Grandpa, this feeling is even more intense. In my impression, grandpa is a kind old man, to me especially good, may be I am better behaved. After Grandpa left, every year on the day of Ching Ming and his memorial day, I would be very sad in my heart. Some people say that the thoughts of others will become fainter and fainter with the passage of time. I think that perhaps the opposite is true for the thoughts of a loved one. Even after a long time, every time we remember their faces and smiles, our hearts will always be a little cold and sour feeling. Even if it is ten years, decades, this feeling will not weaken, disappear, but will become more intense. Because of this, the Qingming Festival will become a day that has been passed down for thousands of years; the rain at Qingming Festival, will be unceasingly coming, which is probably for the induction of the sadness in people's hearts. It's Qingming again. "I can't shed tears, so I have to ask for the rain of Qingming, I hope she will come as scheduled, even if the world wants to flow but difficult to flow tears Still a few days ago, I still can't understand why my grandparents insisted on sweeping the graves every year, how to do it again, the death of my parents is history, how to look at it again, there will be no one Suddenly out of the earth. And every time you go to also burn paper, give the so-called mountain god a very big piece of fat meat as a sacrifice.
This year, as usual, I went to the cemetery very reluctantly. I've been watching the elders go about their business, and I've only been able to stare at them from the sidelines. From the hill overlooking, a mound of graves all over the mountains, that inside, how many hard-working parents and filial piety of the children? And how many tears have flowed on that small urn? I dare not imagine. More dare not imagine when with heavy to see their ...... parents ...... is ...... me.
When I think of this, the heart, fiercely trembled a little. I seem to understand a little bit of the meaning of going to the grave. Suddenly looked back at the busy grandfather, has been all the time, he did not speak, just prepare the yuan and wine and food, eyes, full of sadness and hurt it. His parents, under this small grave, and the love for his parents, far more than the size of this grave. I used to think that it was enough to look at my parents' photos at home and always remember their love in my heart, but now, I understand.
Under the graves, sleeping is their parents who have loved all their lives, every year, come here, although you can only see a piece of brick covered with gorgeous graves, but the body of their parents are here ah! Standing here, just to find that heart of solace. I am here, my parents are next to me, our distance is very close and close, we can touch my mother's old face, look at her eyes, greedily look at, just keep looking, from her eyes, read something. Those paper money, was put into the blazing fire, instantly turned into ashes, paper money, gone, but, let us superstitiously believe, my parents have got them, they can use this year, they this year, no worry, they this year, can peacefully enjoy the ...... my parents, very satisfied. Then I also, at ease.
Another look down the hill, some people in the firecrackers, the sound is very loud, the smoke has been spread to my nose, their love for their parents, but also like this smoke, drifting to, far, far away.