New Grandma's Love Letter Healing Edition

Grandma's passbook, the password is my birthday. On the day when grandma left, the monsoon in Penghu was raging, and the wooden door of the old house was blown loudly, shattering the last peace of the fishing village. I knelt on the straw mat in the ancestral hall. The coarse grass clippings rubbed my knees, and numbness ran up my bones. The photo of the deceased in front of me was taken ten years ago. She was dressed in a floral blouse that had been washed white, and her black hair was neatly combed. Between her brows and eyes was the unique tenacity of a woman from Penghu, neither soft nor weak, with an awe-inspiring character. My mother's eyes were red as she stuffed an old passbook into my palm. The force was very light, but the pressure made my wrist feel heavy. "Grandma left it for you."