The tree wants to be still, but the wind doesn't cease. The child wants to nurture, but the relative doesn't offer kindness. In a person's life, there are always unfinished emotions, unreturned favors, and they are immersed in the depths of time. On a specific spring rain-filled day, accompanied by memories, it comes rushing back.

Twenty-two years have passed, and she has never spoken to you, composing '' for you. Peach root peach leaf, farewell this life, haggard peach blossom, haggard face. Under the moonlight, at the small window, sorrowful sighs melt into satin threads. If one could know the intentions of others, they would also sing the sorrowful sound of the guzheng.

Every year in March, it's the most poignant time for missing loved ones, because it's near Qingming Festival, and also because my grandmother left this month.

I still like the smell of kerosene lamps. I was abnormally afraid of the dark since I was a child. So, every night, my grandmother would light a kerosene lamp on the bedside table to prevent me from crying out in the middle of the night. Therefore, to this day, I still have an inexplicable fondness for images of oil lamps, and a strange familiarity with the smell of kerosene.

The deepest emotions need to be carefully collected, they need to be put into poetry and recited repeatedly.

Twenty-two years have passed, and she has never spoken to you, composing '' for you. Peach root peach leaf, farewell this life, haggard peach blossom, haggard face. Under the moonlight, at the small window, sorrowful sighs melt into satin threads. If one could know the intentions of others, they would also sing the sorrowful sound of the guzheng.

Every year in March, it's the most poignant time for missing loved ones, because it's near Qingming Festival, and also because my grandmother left this month.

I still like the smell of kerosene lamps. I was abnormally afraid of the dark since I was a child. So, every night, my grandmother would light a kerosene lamp on the bedside table to prevent me from crying out in the middle of the night. Therefore, to this day, I still have an inexplicable fondness for images of oil lamps, and a strange familiarity with the smell of kerosene.

My grandmother, and everything related to her, have been placed in that most treasured drawer in my memory.

Sometimes, I feel my grandmother is very cruel, why doesn't she ever come into my dreams?

Even if she just looked at me, she would look at me.

I remember once, when I was on the street, I suddenly saw a silhouette that was extremely similar to my grandmother. I couldn't suppress the joy in my heart and followed her silently for a long street. I know that wasn't my grandmother, but I longed for her to turn around. Finally, she turned around. A completely different, unfamiliar face. I covered my face and turned away in tears.

In this world, every departure is permanent.

Ghostly farewell after many years, soul never enters the dream.

The cool bamboo flute blows open half a crescent moon, composing '' for you. A long street silhouette once chased, a narrow alleyway's turn surprises a different face. Like the sea, a lonely shadow, the mournful sound of the wild goose cries in the cold. It's not that one is powerless to cross thousands of mountains, but that the mountains are too far apart.Later, as I grew older, life also had many new contents.

However, in my dreams, the heart of missing loved ones never changes.

But when I miss her, I no longer cry blankly.

And sometimes, I would offer water and light candles at the Buddhist altar, reciting the 'Erlang Shen' scripture sincerely. Occasionally, I would also read the 'Lianhua Jing'.

When I was a child, my grandmother used to tell me the story of 'Blood', she was my enlightenment teacher in this life.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

March has passed, the grass is green and misty, spring deepens the more entangled thoughts, flowers bloom always ordinary color, the moon is full but still dissatisfied with the moon's color. Intentional thoughts, dream soul tangled. Like a waterfall hanging in the heart, human feelings are not endless flowing water, only the heart of missing loved ones is a bottomless abyss.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

March has passed, the grass is green and misty, spring deepens the more entangled thoughts, flowers bloom always ordinary color, the moon is full but still dissatisfied with the moon's color. Intentional thoughts, dream soul tangled. Like a waterfall hanging in the heart, human feelings are not endless flowing water, only the heart of missing loved ones is a bottomless abyss.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.

I'm grateful to my grandmother, grateful for the kindness she taught me. Her kindness is like the ocean, and I will never forget it for a lifetime.