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写这期专栏的时候,我在上海,陪护住院的父亲。一个月前父亲检查出肝脏重症,四兄妹火速将父亲送到上海,找人、挂号、排队,大把大把交钱,个个都有拒绝和死神接触的坚定决心。我知道,这种决心源自对失去的恐惧。我清楚地记得刚接到三哥电话时那种天崩地裂的疼痛,连续几个夜晚,没完没了地哭。七八年没流泪,原以为自己已经失去了流泪的能力,原以为岁月已经将人打造成百痛不侵的金刚之身,没想到疼痛的开关一旦推上,
At the time of writing this column, I was in Shanghai, accompanied by the hospital’s father. A month ago, my father checked out the severe liver disease. My four siblings rushed to send my father to Shanghai to find someone, to register, to line up, and to make a lot of money. All of us have the firm determination to refuse contact with death. I know that this determination stems from the fear of loss. I clearly remember the kind of earth-shattering pain I had just received from my third brother’s phone. I kept crying endlessly for several nights in a row. Seven or eight years did not cry, I thought I had lost the ability to cry, I thought the years have been transformed into a Hundred Immortal King Kong who did not expect pain switch once pushed,