As the saying goes, be prepared.
Nothing is more important than life and death. How can life and death be unprepared? Life is prepared, how can death be unprepared? So in my hometown, almost everyone has to prepare a coffin for themselves as soon as they are over 40, in case of emergency.
Preparing for death in life has both the calmness of "Who will not die since ancient times" and the tragic "The wind is rustling and Shui Han is bleak". The combination of the two is the villagers' optimistic and open-minded simple attitude towards life.
Building coffins is a big deal, and big things should have rules and pay attention to them. The rule is to start work on auspicious days and hold ceremonies such as burning incense and shooting; Pay attention to the coffin with good material.
It is easy to follow the rules, but difficult to find good materials.
The master who made the coffin said that his father's coffin material was very good.
How could it be bad? Seventy years ago, grandpa planted Chinese fir on a mountain, and the selected Chinese fir seedlings were straight and strong, all of which were embryos of towering trees.
After grandpa planted the tree, he went up the mountain with an axe every year. Sick, weak and crooked trees are cut down one by one, and the mountains are shrinking year by year. When there were only 10 Chinese fir trees left on the mountain, Grandpa didn't stop and cut down 1 tree every year. In the year when there was only/kloc-0 fir tree left in the whole mountain, grandpa died. Father said that at the last moment when Grandpa closed his eyes, his eyes were still unwilling to look in the direction of Cedawang Mountain.
When my father was 40 years old, the two men in the fir tree hardly hugged each other. When cutting, my father invited eight strong laborers from the village to drag them down the mountain, then untied them and dried them for a year, and then asked the coffin maker to start work.
After the coffin was built, my father, master, uncle and eldest brother carried it into the wing together. There are already two big benches on the ground. The coffin is placed squarely on them, away from the ground to avoid the tide, then covered with bamboo mats to isolate dust, and then locked the door to prevent the naughty little son suspected by cats and dogs and our dog from breaking in, so as not to pollute and damage his "baby".
As soon as my father was free, he avoided me, quietly opened the door and got into the wing to see if the coffin was safe.
The more you don't let me see it, the more curious I am and the more I want to see it, so every time I secretly follow my father like a shadow, I can see clearly how he unlocked the lock and where the key was hidden.
I found that every time my father looked at the coffin safely, his eyes were relaxed and there was no worry.
Look at people, colors and sounds. I was secretly happy that I finally found my father's weakness. I want to attack him. Because my father was poor when he was a child and couldn't go to school, he hated himself for being "blind" and hoped that I would succeed in my studies. Therefore, I am very strict with my study. I must not go out to play before I finish my homework. I feel very wronged and painful to see my companions fooling around freely and inexperience. Where there is "oppression", there is resistance, which is why I have such ulterior motives.
My father is tall and strong, with a burden of 200 Jin on his shoulders. No matter on the rugged mountain road or on the muddy ridge, he is as light as a feather. If I stand up to him, it's like an egg hitting a stone, and I won't be so stupid to commit suicide, but I'll try my best to find opportunities to outsmart me.
One day of the winter vacation in the second grade of primary school, the opportunity to wait finally came. Early that morning, my parents, brothers and sisters all went to town to sell sweet potato powder, leaving only my grandmother and me at home. After I finished breakfast, the sun was still wrapped in thick fog, and the thick frost in the ditch flashed cold light. I have been rubbing my cold hands with the hot air in my mouth. Every time I do it, there will be a white "fairy" in my mouth. I have to keep jumping with my feet to get rid of some cold.
I watched my grandmother feed the pig with her little feet, and she quickly stole the key to her wings and sneaked in. My purpose is to push my father's coffin to the ground and tear it with the impact of hitting the ground. Then lock the door, and when dad finds that the door lock is still intact, he won't doubt me.
When I opened the bamboo mat with a swish, the red color of the coffin filled the whole room instantly, and my blood rose to the edge, just like a pot of boiling water, pushing my little heart to jump wildly and burst out of my chest at any time.
I tried my best to push, but the coffin was as motionless as a log. I kicked hard with my foot, but it didn't move. But I let out a deep "thump, thump" sound, as if laughing at my incompetence.
Of course I don't want to be so cheap. If you can't do it, come to the article. I climbed onto the big stool and then boarded the coffin. My head is almost on the roof, and suddenly I feel particularly mighty and tall. I rustled my crotch and tried to pee on the Monkey King's palm like Tathagata to show contempt and victory.
Just when I was about to pee, the bamboo pole in grandma's hand fell on my ass. I instinctively let go, my penis shrank into my crotch like a spring, suddenly bent down to lift my hips, jumped to the ground like a cat and ran to the door. Grandma scolded me, and my little feet bounced behind me. Within half a minute, I left her far away.
I know I'm in big trouble. I'm afraid of being beaten by my father. I dare not go home and hide in the temple. Temples can provide shelter from the wind and rain, and when you are lucky, you can also get some offerings.
It's already dusk when my parents, brothers and sisters come home from the city. The cold wind is as sharp as a blade and the skin stings. Without dinner, they parted from their brothers and sisters and cried for me in the cold night.
They shouted in vain, I couldn't hear them. Because I fell asleep. I had bad luck that day. No one burns incense in the temple, and there is no offering to eat. The whole temple was quiet, and I was cold, hungry, sleepy and scared. But I dare not go home, so I can only stay here for refuge. I found some futons under the altar soft and warm, so I slept in a daze with their mats and quilts.
Later, my sister told me that I shouldn't, and she couldn't find me. My mother cried and my grandmother beat her knees regretfully.
At night, the temple becomes more and more gloomy and scary, and most people dare not step into it rashly. My father was brave, smeared me, found me in the temple and took me home.
Father didn't hit me, but changed the key to the wing to a place where I could never find it again. Of course, I also remembered the lesson and never tried to hit my father's coffin again.
1995 In the summer, I grew from a naughty boy to a civil servant of the county government. My father is nearly sixty years old, but he still has a straight back, strong legs and great strength, and his working ability is no less than that of ordinary young people.
That summer, the weather was unusually hot. The earth was like hot steamed bread in a steamer, steaming everywhere, and people's spirits were driven away by the heat, like vegetables overnight, soft and not sloppy at all.
Early in the morning, I was still sleeping, and the dormitory door was knocked loudly. When I opened the door, I saw that it was Wang Mu, my childhood friend. He came to the morning market to sell vegetables and was entrusted by his mother. He turned to me and said that there was an emergency at home and he had to go back quickly. As for what's urgent, Wang Mu can't say and can't remember, because my family and animals are fine and my mother didn't tell him in detail, so I really don't know what's urgent. But mom won't do it unless she has to. What mother would joke about her children who are going to work? At that time, there was no telephone in the countryside, so I had to leave a message to the leaders and ride home.
My home is 20 kilometers away from the county seat, and it takes more than an hour to get there by bike/kloc-0.
Grandma, dad, mom and uncle are all at home, but their expressions and behaviors are abnormal, which makes me feel uneasy: grandma and mom wipe their tears, which makes me flustered; I was surprised that my father never went to work during the busy farming season. I also smell the strong smell of gunpowder that hasn't dispersed. If I don't arrive in time, even the sparks from the stones may cause an explosion.
My arrival, like a bucket of water, doused the explosive powder.
With the support of my son, my mother's tears stopped and she told me the whole story in detail.
It turned out that a poor family in the village died suddenly, and the family was poor and had no coffin. At this time, there is no coffin to bury. Although the villagers patched together all the money for the coffin, it was too late for the master to build it on such a hot day, and the body stinks. Even relatives and friends stay at a respectful distance from each other and are afraid to approach. The orphans and widows are helpless and crying helplessly. Father couldn't take it anymore and decided to donate his coffin to the dead. Donating coffins from the living to the dead is taboo in rural areas, and no one dares to break this rule.
Grandma and mom are afraid that dad who broke the rules will be punished by God, and they strongly disagree. My father insisted on donating. He thinks that people have great difficulties and must be helped. The coffin can be rebuilt after it is sent.
Grandma and mom said, what should I do if I give the coffin to others and get struck by lightning? Father said that if he was struck by lightning because he sent a coffin to the victims, it would mean that God was unreasonable, and unreasonable God did not need to respect him.
Each said his own truth and refused to give in, and the two sides froze there. My brothers are all working in other provinces, and they can't save the scene. My uncle couldn't say anything, but my mother used her quick wits and called me home.
My mother never imagined that my arrival actually contributed to my father's wish. I said, I agree with my father.
When I said the same thing, grandma and mom were silent.
Father said quickly, you just brought a lot of helpers, and time waits for no one. Let's put the coffin in the car together.
Scooters, sticks and ropes are all prepared by my father, and my mother also helps. The four of us had a hard time putting the coffin on the cart and tying it tightly. Father was not at ease, so he checked around the coffin to make sure it was safe.
After uncle helped clean up the car, he was busy collecting rice. The sun is in roof of the world at this time.
There is a long slope from my home to the deceased's. My dad pulled the scooter in front, and I pushed it hard behind, and the scooter creaked up. The sun was burning on my back, and thin clothes stuck to me like hot iron sheets. I wish I could tear them off. At the top of the slope, I was sweating and panting, and then I went down the mountain. Father suddenly stopped the scooter before going downhill.
There were no pedestrians on the road, and the cries of the families of the deceased were clearly audible.
Father turned his head and told me to hurry back to work in the city. I said I would help him deliver it to the deceased's home, and my father said, I really don't need it. The road is not far, and it is a peaceful road downhill. He can pull it himself. He wouldn't let me smell the smelly body. Later, I heard from my mother that my father jumped into the river for a long time before going home in order not to bring that disgusting smell into the house. Then he lost his appetite for dinner for several days.
That year, my father was 65 years old. After he sent the coffin, we wanted to prepare a new coffin for him, but my father refused. He told us frankly that he was clean after he died.
/kloc-one early summer night after 0/9, my father passed away safely. Waiting in line for the ashes in the crematorium is like sitting on pins and needles, and every second is like a year. I ran to the square to get some air. When I saw a particularly white smoke floating from the chimney, I knew it must be my father.