Grandma always liked to say, “Child, when you come to an obstacle, think of it as a river. If you’re on this side, the river is an obstacle. Once you cross the bridge, there’s no river in front of you anymore. Don’t be afraid of the river. Just do your best to cross the bridge.”
Grandma’s life was full of hardships. Back then, the Japanese invaders’ blades fell without mercy, and her parents were killed, but she never gave up. Her younger brother went missing in the chaos, but she still didn’t give up. Later, her husband died on the battlefield, leaving her all alone, yet she gritted her teeth and carried on. During the famine years, wild greens and tree bark were all they had to eat, but she still fought to stay alive. Even the crushing blow of losing her children one after another to dysentery couldn’t make her bow her head.
She was like the resilient poplars of the northwestern deserts, standing firm through the storms of fate and crossing the “rivers” of life time and again. But this time, she left herself on this side of the river.
Grandma, you crossed so many bridges in your life and weathered countless storms. You made it through every obstacle. But this time, were you tired, weary of it all, or had your heart grown cold? You chose to rest on this side of the river and stop struggling. But your strength, like all those bridges, will stay in my heart forever, giving me the courage to cross life’s “rivers.”
