(Translator: this aricle has nothing to do with the topic of politics as is usually written by Mr. Ran, but the great love hiden in the words of this article is too powful and moving for me to flip over, thus I translated it, sharing with all of you. Respected Mr. Ran wrote it in April, 2009.)
My dear mother, when you were still with us, every year from January to April I would recall my own birthday because you had forgot the day I was given birth to. Every year when I celebrate my birthday, I think of you, my mother, since it was that day you delivered me through which you suffered; I, thus, always talk to myself and remind myself of the deep affectionateness that you had to me. But since five years ago you left me, I have learned my own comprehension of the verse “April is the cruelest month” by the great poet Eliot. Because of the existence of the Swiping Day, April is a season of grief for Chinese; because you, my mother passed away in April, it is also my saddest spring.
The day in five years ago, my mother who led a life of hardship passed away, setting up a partition between us and you, our most important family member. Whenever recalling the hardship you had walked through, I, who am less inclined to tears, could not help crying. The days when you were with us have gone, them with poorness but filled up with warmth because of you; but they have been part of my life, improbable to be separated. Recalling your smiling face in the hardship in my childhood; recalling my every single birthday that you never forgot no matter how hard the days were; recalling the moment you taught me Tang poetry; all of these snapshots could be pictured as clearly as the time when I went through together with you. But, my mother, can they be back someday? Sometimes I become too sad to hold my rationality, figuring that however close the people are to us, they will eventually walk away; such inevitable grief, why is the part of the fate of us human beings.
My mother, owing to your passing-away, I have a deeper grasp of such type of relationships; I have a furthered love toward my families; and I have a better understanding of the bitterness between generations. As a consequence, I cherish more the moments that I could share with them, and I am aware that being a blood-related of mine, albeit accidentally, deserves cherishing for my whole life. No matter how close the family members are to each other, everyone loses one day after the day spent, which is the so-called living toward death. It is right because of living toward death, we should live in dignity; although we might have no less hardship, the blessed and interesting life is what deserves our effort. Previously, I was stricter with my family than warm to them, but since the day you left us, my mother, I started to realize they are so import to me. This is the last lesson that, my mother, you taught me through your own leaving.
Last year my friend Cai’s mother was dead at the age of 97, he asked me to compile a collection of memorial. I was tearing for the bitter life that Cai’s mother had experienced, which reminded me of missing you at times. My mother, the blessings you had granted me could hardly be returned, hardly even through my whole life. My mother, we have gone through a lot changes in these five years. The sweet and warm family you had witnessed when you were with us is still going on, your children and grandchildren are still happy and safe; this might be the only comfort for you. Your offspring live in this world with their own principles, straightforward and sincere, as were you with a kind and merciful heart; this might alleviate the worries you always had over us when you were alive.
My mother, the spring has come; the flowers growing up before your coffin must have expressed gratitude to you on behalf of us. Your son, whose is unable to kneel down before your coffin due to the distance partitioning us, has his heart already been with you.
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