临终前那晚,父亲的生命之火已经非常微弱。在病床边,我一直拉着他的手,这双童年时代常常牵住的温暖而结实的大手渐渐变凉,他的呼吸暂停的时间越来越长。当他吐出最后一口气息时,仿佛一列生命列车轻鸣一声汽笛,停在人生的终点。 The night before his death, his father’s life has been very weak fire. At the bedside, I kept pulling his hand. The warm, strong hands, often held in my childhood, cooled down and his breathing stopped longer and longer. When he uttered the last breath, as if a life train light sirens, stop at the end of life.