winter have passed, and all things recovery, at this time, the annual ching ming festival again. from the start my notebook, each of the ching ming festival this day, the mother let me put on army colored spring, with paper money, led me go.
the death of our family are buried in people biandantang hill, where very far from my house, want to switch cars several road. i remember a child, i always am glad to go上墳, because the mother at one grave money, me, and i will fill the fields and everywhere to play, until his mother put on my drag car go.
i do not know from the start when i go to play it again no longer downtown, but one after another to observe each one graves. i once found in a dilapidated graves, no traces of burnt paper money, i am very surprised that on the down, the language carefully to identify the monument, as if engraved above the so-called "life took part in fighting this war," and he was still a stranger miles! why, he should be buried in the martyrs cemetery ! why is no one above the names of relatives?
with questions about my curiosity ran to tell his mother, the mother does not rise, but slowly, said: "alas! you go get some paper money for him it!" i took over the delivery to the mother of a pile of paper money. he went to the tomb, while throwing paper money to the fire, he murmured: "no one has ever been up for your grave, you must be very lonely, and i do not know what you call not recognize you, but you year must be a hero, now has displaced bones, i burn some paper money for you now ... ... "at this time, his hands gently caught one of my shoulders, i looked back and was the mother, she gently from my hands took some paper money, threw the fire, the paper money fell fire, one, two, four ... ...
this year went to the vicinity of cemeteries, and because the mother had severe rheumatoid arthritis, she could not , and i go, she is not a person at ease. so we at outdoor money, his mother threw some paper money said: "dad! you then you! small, remote, (my uncle) with ... ..."
finally only a pile of paper money, the mother put it to me said: "little wing, do you die for that unknown person burned it, alas! did not give him strange people poor." the fire ... ... my face, my heart said: "rest in peace now! next year the ching ming festival, i must go上墳for you!" wind gust over, put the ashes of burnt paper money has been blown away ... ...
又逢ching ming festival this year.
冬天過去了，萬物復甦，這時，一年一度的清明節又到了。從我記事開始，每年清明節的這一天，母親就讓我換上軍色的春裝，帶著紙錢，領著我上墳去。
我們家去世的人都埋在扁擔山，那兒離我家很遠，要轉好幾道車。記得小時候，我總是很高興去上墳，因為母親在墳前一燒紙錢，就管不著我了，我便滿山遍野地到處玩，直到母親把我拖上車去。
不知從什麼時候開始，我去上墳不再又玩又鬧了，而是逐個逐個地觀察每一座墳。有一次我發現在一座破爛不堪的墳前，從來沒有紙錢燒過的痕跡，我很奇怪，就彎下腰，仔細辨認碑上的文字，上面好像刻著什麼“生前曾參加過抗美援朝的戰鬥”，而且他還是個外鄉人哩！咦，他應該埋在烈士墓園吧！為什麼上面沒有一個親屬的名字？