The old couple above us have a son in Singapore and a daughter in the United States. The old man has cancer. I moved to a nursing home a few days ago when it was the hottest time in Beijing. The old couple downstairs, whose only daughter lives in the United States, have not been reunited for three years due to the epidemic. They had a complete physical examination two days ago and finally bought a plane ticket to visit their daughter and her family.
I heard by chance two days ago that one of my junior high school classmates is an only child who has settled in the United States for many years and is the pride of her parents. However, because her parents, who are over eighty years old, are getting seriously ill day by day, and her father is suffering from the intractable manic Alzheimer's disease, she has to quit her well-paid job and return to China alone to fulfill her belated filial piety. In any case, she is still lucky. We see and hear more changes that lead to permanent separation, which makes the strong emotion of farewell forever sink into the darkness of regret.
To be honest, this situation is very common in the current circle of elderly intellectuals, in rural areas, and in small cities. The elderly will not turn to their children who have settled in a foreign country for help unless they have to, and the middle-aged children bear the deep sorrow of being unable to repay San Chunhui. Sometimes this kind of grief that cannot be traced and cannot be expected again is so intense that it makes people feel horrified.
Intention: This kind of grief that cannot be traced and cannot be expected again is so intense that it is thrilling.