Chapter 14 5th Tuesday we talk about family

The first week of September was the beginning of the semester. My old professor had taught in Xingtan for thirty-five years, but there were no classes to teach when the fall semester started this time.There are students everywhere in Boston. There are vehicles parked side by side in the streets and alleys, and the students are busy unloading their bags.Murray was sitting in his study.It felt weird, like a football player finally off the field, sitting at home on his first Sunday, watching the TV and thinking: I can do this too.From my previous experience, I know that during the beginning of the season, it is best not to deal with retired players, not to say anything.Murray didn't need me to remind him that the day was coming to an end, though.

Our taped conversations used to be with hand-held microphones, but since Murray can hardly hold anything for long periods of time, we switched to pin-type microphones, the kind that TV anchors like to use, which you attach to your collar.It's just that Murray often wears soft cotton shirts that fit loosely over his shrinking body, and the microphone often hangs down, and I have to reach out to adjust it from time to time.Murray seemed to like it, because it brought me closer to him, within reach, and that close physical contact he needed more and more.When I leaned forward, I heard his heavy breathing and weak coughing. He cleared his throat, swallowed, and smacked his lips slightly.

My friend, he said: What shall we talk about today? How about family? Family, he thought for a moment, and said: My family is all around, you can see it. He nods to the many framed pictures on his bookshelf, including pictures of Murray as a child with his grandmother; him as a young man with his brother David; himself and his wife Charlotte; and his two sons, Robert, working as a reporter in Tokyo , Qiang worked in the computer industry in Boston. He said: "I think the importance of family has only increased as we've discussed it over the past few weeks. In fact, today we would have no place to stand, nothing to rely on without family.I have felt this more and more since my illness.If you don't have the support, love, care and attention of your family, you have next to nothing.Love is the most important, our great poet WH Auden (WH Auden) said: not to love, is to die.

I wrote this down: not to love is like death.Is this what Auden said? Not loving each other is death, Murray said: Very good sentence, isn't it?That's right.Without love, we are all birds with broken wings. Had I been divorced, or lived alone, or had no children, the illness I have now would have been doubly unbearable, and I don't feel like I can handle it.Yes, friends, colleagues, etc. will come to see me, but this is different, family members don't get up and say goodbye.It's different, you know that your family is always there for you and keeping an eye on you. The family is like this, not only caring for each other, but also letting the other person know that you care about him.When my mother passed away, it was this feeling that I lost the most, a sense of spiritual security, so to speak, knowing that your family is always there for you.Nothing else can replace it, not money, not fame.

He glanced at me and added, "I can't even work." One item on my little list is having children, something we don't figure out sooner than later.I told Murray about the dilemma of our generation in having children. We feel that we will be caught by the children, forcing us to do things that parents must do, but we don't really want to do.I admit that I feel the same way. It's just that when I look at Murray and imagine myself dying like him, with no family, no children, can I bear the emptiness?He raised both sons to be caring and considerate of others, and like Murray himself, he was not shy about expressing his feelings.If he wanted, they would have given up their jobs to spend every minute of his last few months with his father, but he didn't want to.

Don't interrupt your life, he told the two sons: Otherwise, this disease will not destroy me alone, but our family. This is how he, even on the verge of death, still respects the children's own world.It's no wonder that when they came to accompany them, the relationship between father and son was harmonious, kissing cheeks and shoulders, talking and laughing, the two sons sat by the bed, holding hands with their father, and their hearts were connected. When people ask me whether they should have children, I don't teach them how to do it.Murray looked at the photo of his eldest son and said: I'm just saying this simply: There is no other experience like having children.It's that simple, nothing else can replace this one.Not friends, not lovers.If you are going to take full responsibility for another human being, and learn how to give the deepest love and care, then you should have children.

I ask, so would you like to do it again? I glanced at the photo, and it was Robert kissing Murray on the forehead, and Murray was smiling with his eyes closed. Would I do it all over again?He looked at me in surprise: Mitch, I will never give up this life experience.even if He swallowed, and put the photo on his lap. He said: Even if you have to pay a high price. Because you will have to leave them someday. Because I'm leaving them soon. His lips were tight, his eyes were closed, and I saw the first tear drop down his cheek. Now, he said softly: It's your turn to speak. I? your family.I know your parents, we met, many years ago, at graduation.You have a sister, don't you?

I said yes. Is it my sister? sister. And a brother, right? I nod. Is it the younger brother? younger brother. Like me, Murray said: I have a brother too. I said yes, same as you. He was at your graduation too, right? I blinked, and the scene of us being together sixteen years ago appeared in my mind, the scorching sun, the blue robes, we huddled together shoulder to shoulder, winking in front of the camera, and only heard the number of people: one, two, three what happened?Murray noticed my sudden silence.what's on your mind? I said, nothing, and changed the subject. Actually, I do have a brother, he has blond hair and hazel eyes, two years younger than me, and he doesn't look like me or my dark-haired sister, so we used to tease him, saying He was a foundling who had been dumped on our doorstep.We also say: One day they will come and get you back.He'd always cry when he heard that, but we'll stick to it.

Like many youngests, he was favored while growing up, but there was an unknown world in his heart.His dream is to be an actor or a singer, always imitating TV shows while eating dinner, playing every role, with a big smile on his face that makes people feel affectionate and loving.I am a good student, he is a bad student; I am obedient, he is rebellious; I don't drink alcohol, I don't take drugs, he tries everything, and comes to everything.He moved to Europe shortly after finishing high school because he liked the free-spirited lifestyle there.However, he was still the most favored child in the family. When he returned home, compared with his wild and funny personality, I felt old-fashioned and old-fashioned.

With our opposite looks and personalities, I have always felt that our encounters when we grow up will be very different.Everything I guessed was right, except for one.Ever since my uncle died, I believed that I would suffer from a similar disease and die likewise in the prime of life.That's why I work like hell, ready for the cancer to come, I can almost hear the breath of the disease, I know it's coming.I waited for this day like a condemned man waits for his executioner. I guessed right, it did come. But it just passed me by. It found my brother. Like my uncle, pancreatic cancer, a rare type of pancreatic cancer.Our youngest brother, the blond-haired and brown-eyed son of heaven, had to undergo chemotherapy and radiation therapy.All his hair had fallen out, and his face was as thin as a skull.I thought to myself, this should be me.But my brother is not me, nor my uncle.He's strong-willed, he's been that way since he was a kid, we had a scuffle in the basement once and he bit through my shoe and I screamed in pain and had to let him go.

He fought back.He lives in Spain, where he takes an experimental drug not available in the United States to fight cancer.He flew to various European countries, seeking famous doctors everywhere.After five years of treatment, the cancer seemed to be beaten back under drug control. That's great news, but the bad news is that my brother doesn't want me to see him, in fact he avoids the rest of the family.We've been wanting to see him, but he keeps getting in the way, insisting he has to fight the disease on his own.Sometimes months passed without a word from him, and we left messages on his answering machine without him responding.I felt guilty that I couldn't be there to care for him, but I was also angry that he refused us thousands of miles away. So, I still buried my head in my work.I put in my work because it's something I can control, because there's no irrational work, and I get what I put in.Every time I call into my brother's Spanish home and hear the answering machine (he speaks in Spanish, which makes the distance between us increasingly strange), I hang up and get back to work. That's probably one of the reasons I was drawn to Murray, he allowed me to do things I couldn't do to my brother. Looking back on all of this, perhaps Murray knew this all along. ◇◇◇ One winter when I was a child, I played on a snow-covered hillside in the suburb where we lived.My brother and I were sitting on a sled, he was up and I was down, his chin was on my shoulder, and he was half riding on me. The sled slid through the rough snow, and then we slid down the hill, and the speed became very fast. Someone shouted: There is a car! We saw it too, coming from the street to our left.We squealed and tried to turn the sledge aside, but it was no use.The driver of the car honked his horn and slammed on the brakes. We jumped off the sled at the critical moment.We were wearing thick snowsuits with hoods, and the two of us rolled down the wet and cold snow slope like logs, thinking that the next moment we would roll to the front of the car and be crushed by the tires.We scream! , full of fear in his heart, spinning all the way down. Then, it's okay.We rolled to the foot of the hill and stopped, regaining consciousness and wiping snow from our faces.The car was already whizzing by, and the driver pointed at us repeatedly with his index finger through the window.We were safe, and the sled had come to a halt when it hit a mound of snow.Our playmates came up and patted our shoulders, and some said: Cool!Some said: You almost died. My brother and I made a funny face, and the two children acted smugly in front of their companions.That's not so bad, we thought, and it won't hurt to do Suicide Squad next time.