I still remember that two years ago, it was also the season when everything was facing withering. In this poetic but so sad season, I lost my favorite person-my grandfather.
At that time, I was standing at the door, watching my grandfather fall asleep peacefully while others were crying. I ignored him because I knew grandpa needed to be quiet now and he was tired.
However, I don't know why, tears still flowed out, and I can't accept that fact. Grandpa once taught me what is "the goodness at the beginning of life"; He once gave me a good memory of sitting on his lap watching the stars telling stories; He once took me fishing by the river and gained a lot ... Thinking of this, I turned and ran out of the door, exhausted and panting, and fell to one side. I looked at the wound. It was red and hot. It hurts, it really hurts, but I can't tell whether my heart is bleeding or the wound is hurting. God, it's as dark and dark as spilled ink. Thunder roared, rolled up a gust of wind, and lifted everything on the ground. Soon, it began to rain in Mao Mao. I looked up and the rain fell on me. I have long forgotten whether it is rain or tears on my face. What? What fell in my hand. It looks like leaves. It's beautiful, like eyes. Eyes! I suddenly woke up, just grandpa's eyes, the kind of eyes full of expectation but helpless. I remembered my grandfather's words: "Lin, when you grow up, do a good job and do a good job in our village." The eyes at that time were the same as before. I seem to suddenly understand what my grandfather did-silently paying for the village, and I inherited all his dreams and hopes.
"Falling red is not heartless, but turning into spring mud is more protective of flowers." In order to prolong life better, there must be early sacrifices in training. Look at the path again. Seven colors of sunshine shine on the road, just like our life. I hold my head high, stand out my chest, hold the yellow leaf in my hand, and walk through the four seasons with my grandfather's expectation, smiling and going on!