Dear mother, this is the first time I have written to you, and it may be the last time. There are some things that I can only tell you in this slightly stupid way:
Sorry, mom, I’m sick, and I still have leukemia.
It is said that the harder you work, the happier you will be. I also think that going to university and graduate school will bring you closer to happiness. But the facts have proved that my efforts have brought only suffering and despair to this family.
Our family has never been well off, but now it’s worse because of me. The four-year-old nephew asked his grandfather why our house is so broken. We all know the reason but don’t know how to answer.
In the past three years, if it were not for your relief and your persistence, I had already said goodbye to this world.
To this day, I feel that I owe this family an account with you.
When I was sick, my eldest brother said he must save me. Without hesitation, he took out all his savings, took a lifetime debt for me, and gave me a bone marrow donation, a transplant, and even filed for divorce for fear of my sister-in-law’s objection.
The second sister-in-law was so distressed that she did not dare to hear my voice. The seven-year-old niece cried and said that she would never eat snacks anymore and left the money to her uncle for treatment.
Brother and sister-in-law were afraid that you could not take care of me. They resolutely quit their jobs and took care of me until I was discharged.
Affection is as thick as it is, and it is not enough to pay for it in a hundred generations.
From chemotherapy to transplantation, to infection and rejection, for the past three years, we have been trembling, walking on thin ice. Despite your best efforts, I am still on the verge of life and death.
My illness not only made my family emptied of everything, but my family members were tired of debts. Our spirits were constantly on the verge of despair and collapse, and we were exhausted physically and mentally. Especially in the last six months, there have been several critical rescues, and every time I feel so tired.
In that coma, I really had a kind of comfort that I had never had before, but suddenly my consciousness told me that this comfort is likely to be exchanged for your eternal pain. I can accept all the pain and even death caused by the illness, but I really don’t dare to see the helpless and helpless eyes of your sister and you after crying, it’s more than cutting the heart with a knife. It’s uncomfortable.
During the three years of being ill, you have taken care of me meticulously. The suffering and grievances I have suffered for this have already exceeded the limit that ordinary people can bear. From the hospital to the rented room, I walked at least six times a day but never called tired. I scrubbed and disinfected things every day, wishing to cut off a layer.
I go to school, you live with me on campus.
I am hospitalized, you will wait for me to go home.
Grandpa was hospitalized, and none of us could go back to see each other.
Because of my weakness, you will wipe my body and soak my feet every day. Every time you see my skinny body, your eyes will suddenly turn red. While holding back your tears, you will be cautious like cleaning a work of art. I can’t imagine you, who pretended to be optimistic and strong in front of me, would feel sad behind your back.
When I was seriously ill, when we were desperate and desperate, you just held my hand, trembled all over, sobbed, but still couldn’t bear to say the words “take me home”, just asking me tactfully : “Is there anyone I want to meet.”
I know that you have exhausted all your life, but you can’t get my life back. You have worked hard for a long time, but in exchange for waves of despair. You are not reconciled, but there is nothing you can do.
You always said that as long as the person is still there, nothing else matters.
As long as we work hard, we will have what we want in the future.
Every time I think of these words, I feel proud. Although you have no academic qualifications, you are more educated than anyone else; you are thin and weak, but you have carried a life that is as heavy as Mount Tai; you are gentle and kind, and you are ravaged by life, but you never complain and lose hope. It is this you that makes me unable to give up on myself.
Mom, can I make an appointment with you here?
You cannot have a family without a mother. For this family, you have to take care of yourself.
Regarding me, just work hard, I won’t regret and complain, and you don’t have to blame yourself. Life has its own chances, and destiny also has its own trajectory. If one day, things are really impossible, I hope you can understand, it is just a natural law.
I hope you can hold back your tears and watch the past with a smile.
Because I just changed my way and stayed by your side.
Thank you for your perseverance.
I love your unfilial son