一个人的一生应该是一个隐喻,说不清是怎样的一种情形。我试着记录父亲的一生,却苦于找不到一个合适的方式。我记得父亲离开的那一天凌晨,风刮得呜呜的,把天上的雪都刮了下来,燃烧的花圈也挡不住坟头新土上那一层薄薄的雪。村子里的一个老人说父亲是老实人,能积修成这样真是不容易。他说这话的时候,一直很费劲地晃动着脑袋,让我感觉很伤感。我知道他比这个村子还要老,他很在乎一个人去世后的征兆。 A person’s life should be a metaphor, can not tell what kind of a situation. I tried to record my father’s life but could not find a suitable way. I remember the whistling wind blowing in the early morning of the day my father left, and the snow in the sky was scraped off, and the burning wreath could not stop the thin snow on the new earth. An old man in the village says his father is an honest man. It is not easy to build up this way. When he said these words, it had been very hard to shake his head, I feel very sad. I know he is older than the village, and he cares very much about the signs of a man’s death.