A mother, she has a stronger heart than anyone else; A mother, her love is incomparable
Story:
I live in a hospital dormitory and see more life and death every day. I always thought that nothing would make me happy or sad easily. Until one day, I met Jiang Sheng, and the nurses said that he had no father and only one mother lived with him.
Seeing Jiang Sheng, he curled up in the hospital bed by the window. Sitting by the bed, his thin mother is seriously describing the scene outside the window to him: "What a beautiful day today! Look at the sun shining on your bed. The rape blossoms outside the window are golden. " On the lawn, hey! Isn't it the girl Xiaoyu who moved in a few days ago? She had a disease with us, which was heavier than ours at first. Now she can walk in the yard by herself. The doctor said that now, this disease is easy to cure ... "
The window of the ward is actually a bare wall with nothing. Jiang Sheng's brain tumor compressed the optic nerve, and he was blind when he was admitted to hospital. The doctor repeatedly explained the seriousness of the illness to the patient's family. But his mother, this thin mother. Insisting that her son get the best treatment, she doesn't even want to give up one in ten thousand hopes. Later, I learned that she was spreading an omelet on the roadside of Dazhi. In order to treat her son, she sold her house and blood. ...
Friends and relatives in the neighborhood can't bear to meet her face to face. Whenever they meet someone, they always come forward to hold hands. "Call my son." She always begged people to call her son's mobile phone again and again. She said to him: so many people care about you!
Day after day, she accompanied her son to lie on the bed, sitting silently by the bed, watching him answer his carefully arranged phone calls.
No one can believe that she can stay up all night and run around for days. Ask the address of my son, classmates and friends. "Call my son." She said.
The doctors did their best, and Jiang Sheng finally left at a quiet dawn.
The mother didn't cry, but held her son's clothes tightly. Staring at the bed where my son slept for a long time. ...
On the roadside of Dazhi, I saw a trolley pushing "egg pancakes" and a thinner and taller figure. My son's mobile phone is lying in a warm cloth bag on his mother's chest.
Every morning and evening, someone will walk a long way to buy her egg pancakes.
Every morning and evening, someone sends a greeting message to her mobile phone on her chest: "Mom, we love you."