North Family Letters

Returning to Dust: Seasonal Sacrifices and Joint Burial (Continued)

The joint burial was meticulously arranged. The six sisters stood side by side before the newly erected joint tombstone, their parents' names inscribed close together, each stroke carrying the long-cherished wish of the six sisters. Their mother passed away early, when Xiaoman and Xiaoya were still innocent children. Their memories of their mother were mostly of her gentle appearance as described by their sisters, of her fingertips mending clothes, and of the warm aroma wafting from the porridge they cooked. Their father had accompanied them through even longer years, supporting the entire family with his rough hands. Now, the two sisters were finally together in the dust, no longer alone.

A gentle breeze swept by, carrying away the ashes of the burnt paper money and softening the tears welling in the sisters' eyes. There was no wailing, only a long-suppressed sense of relief slowly spreading through their hearts. The eldest sister raised a hand to wipe her eyes, her voice still as steady as ever, yet carrying a barely perceptible tenderness: "Dad, Mom, now you two are together. Don't worry about us anymore. Live your own lives well, and don't spend your lives worrying about your children like you did in this one."

The second sister, Song Xiahe, gently placed the old palm-leaf fan embroidered with daisies on the bluestone beside the tombstone. This fan had been with their father for many years; the ribs had been worn smooth by time, and the daisy embroidery on the fan surface had long since faded. It was an item brought back from Yunnan years ago, holding a poignant memory of their mother leading her six sisters on a long journey to find their father. "Mom, you always loved us when you were alive, and Dad devoted his whole life to the family. Now that you are together, taking care of each other, we can finally rest easy," she said softly, her thoughts instantly drifting back to that long journey over mountains and valleys, her eyes growing warmer.

The third sister, Song Qiuling, added half a bowl of millet porridge to the food box and placed it in front of the tombstone. It was the thick porridge that her parents loved to drink, cooked until soft, sticky, and sweet—a taste she had perfected through countless practice sessions following her father's recipe. Looking at the names tightly intertwined on the tombstone, she suddenly remembered her mother holding their hands, repeatedly saying, "Let's go find your father, and the family will be reunited." Back then, the family was poor, and her mother, dragging her six young daughters, embarked on the long journey to Yunnan with unwavering determination, just to see her father, who had been away fighting in the Vietnam War for many years. "Dad, Mom, the taste of home is always there. The fire in the old house has never gone out. No matter how far we six sisters go, our hearts are always connected. We'll return to the old house for holidays and festivals, and we'll visit you often."

Fourth sister Song Dongxue silently cleared the weeds from the grave and wiped the tombstone until it shone with a clean cloth. She was never one for words, but always expressed her feelings through the most delicate actions. Over the years, she had helped her eldest sister with household chores and learned to care for her sisters, she had long since shed her youthful impetuosity and become a reliable helper in the family. Now, as her fingertips traced the cold tombstone, her mind was filled with the scene of her childhood on the Yunnan border, her mother holding their hands, and her first meeting with her father. Endless longing and warmth welled up within her.

Xiaoman and Xiaoya stood behind their older sisters, holding hands tightly. They were the youngest of the siblings, their memories of searching for their father in Yunnan hazy, yet they often heard their sisters recount that story. They gently placed the milk candies they had brought before the tombstone; these were the candies their father often bought for them when they were little, and the sweet treats their mother would sometimes keep in her pocket for them. Xiaoya's voice was soft, with a girlish gentleness, yet exceptionally firm: "Dad, Mom, we've grown up. We'll help our sisters with the housework, we'll live a good life. The six of us will never be apart, we'll always be a family." Xiaoman nodded beside her, her eyes full of earnestness: "Our sisters always say that Mom led us to find you, they walked such a long way, we remember it all."

That memory, etched into the very bones of the six sisters, is the time their mother, with her frail shoulders, carried the family's hopes as she led them on a journey to Yunnan to find their father. Back then, their father answered the call to join the Vietnam War, serving as a railway soldier and crossing the border from Yunnan to the Vietnamese battlefield. He endured enemy bombing raids, harsh conditions, and the dangers of gunfire, working alongside his comrades to repair roads and ensure the transport of supplies, building a vital transportation lifeline on the border with his own flesh and blood to protect the peace of their homeland. After the war, he voluntarily stayed on the Yunnan border, participating in border defense construction and logistical support. Separated from his hometown for several years, he could only express his longing for his wife and six daughters through a few letters.

The mother, worried day and night at home, watched her daughters grow up and constantly ask for their father. Finally, she made up her mind to take the children to Yunnan to see her husband whom she missed so much. At that time, the family was poor and did not have enough money for the journey. The mother sold the few pieces of jewelry she had to raise enough money for the trip. She then set off on a long journey to find her husband, dragging her six daughters, the oldest of whom was only a teenager and the youngest who was still learning to walk.

After a long and arduous journey, enduring several days and nights on a crowded and stuffy green train, the mother carried Xiaoya, held Xiaoman's hand, and also looked after her other four daughters. She dared not close her eyes at night, fearing that the children would suffer from cold, hunger, or get lost. After getting off the train, they transferred to a bumpy long-distance bus, crossing rolling mountains and traversing rugged mountain roads shrouded in mist. The closer they went to the border, the harsher the conditions became. The mountain roads were muddy, and mosquitoes were rampant. When the younger sisters could not walk, their mother took turns carrying them on her back and in her arms. Sweat soaked her clothes, and blisters formed on her feet, but she never complained. Her eyes always shone with determination, thinking only of seeing her husband as soon as possible, so that the children could meet their father whom they had never met or had not been close to for a long time.

Finally, they arrived at the Yunnan border camp where their father was stationed. Their father had just finished a border patrol; his skin was tanned dark and rough from the border sun, the cuffs of his uniform were worn white, and he still carried the smell of dust and gunpowder. His hands, calloused from years of repairing roads and handling tools, were thick with calluses. His upright posture couldn't hide his exhaustion. When he turned and saw his wife standing at the camp gate, simply dressed, her face covered in dust, but her eyes gentle, and his six timid yet expectant daughters, this tough man who had never shed a tear on the battlefield instantly had tears welling up in his eyes. He rushed over, embraced his mother and sisters, choked with sobs, unable to utter a word, only hot tears falling onto his shoulders, concealing countless thoughts of longing and guilt.

Those days in Yunnan were the most precious time for the family to reunite. Father took them to see the green mountains of the border region, telling stories of the battlefield, but never mentioning the hardships he had endured, only saying that defending the country was a soldier's duty. Mother stayed in the makeshift hut, mending Father's worn-out uniform, cooking his favorite hometown dishes, pouring years of accumulated tenderness and longing into each meal. The sisters gathered around Father, listening to his interesting stories of border defense, touching the medals on his chest—those heavy medals were Father's glory and the family's strength. When they parted, Father handed Mother a palm-leaf fan embroidered with daisies, saying that the wind was strong at the border, and that carrying it would keep her company and remind her of home. This fan became a symbol of the family's enduring love and longing.

Later, after his father retired from the army, he returned home and spent the rest of his life making up for what he had missed with his wife and daughters. His rough hands supported the entire family, and he watched them grow up. His mother, on the other hand, always stayed in the old house, cared for her six daughters, and cherished the warmth of this reunion across thousands of miles, until her passing. Over the years, the six sisters have always remembered their mother's perseverance in leading them through mountains and rivers to find their father, remembered the unwavering bond between their parents despite being separated by thousands of miles, and remembered their father's dedication to his country and his responsibility to his family.

The six sisters stood quietly for a while, listening to the sound of the wind passing through the woods, as if their parents were gently responding to their words. Only when the sun gradually rose higher did the eldest sister speak: "Let's go back to the old house, and like always, cook a simple home-cooked meal, as if Mom and Dad were still here, and the family is reunited."

The return journey was smoother than the way there. The six sisters walked side by side, their steps lighter, their worries finally at ease, and a sense of fulfillment added to their feeling. They chatted about their lives along the way. The eldest sister mentioned that the flowers and plants in the old house's yard had sprouted new buds, the third sister talked about the new dishes she had recently learned, the fourth sister recounted amusing anecdotes from the neighborhood, and Xiaoman and Xiaoya chatted about small things at work and school. Amidst their laughter and conversation, the sadness of the memorial service had completely vanished, leaving only the unique warmth of family, and the heartwarming memories of searching for their father in Yunnan, the couple's companionship, and the children's dependence on each other, flowing gently through their hearts.

Back in the old house, pushing open the door, the familiar warmth of home filled the air. The sunflowers planted by Father and the roses planted by Mother were in full bloom in the yard, and the old palm-leaf fan under the eaves swayed gently in the breeze. Everything was just as it had been when our parents were alive. The sisters tacitly divided the tasks and busied themselves. The eldest sister kneaded the dough to prepare steamed white flour buns, which were the parents' favorite; the third sister picked and washed the vegetables to cook a pot of hot millet porridge and stir-fry some home-style dishes; the fourth sister tended the fire, and the flames crackled in the stove, warming the entire kitchen; Xiahe cleaned the house, tidying up our parents' room and making sure the bedding was laid out neatly; Xiaoman and Xiaoya watered the flowers and tidied up the yard, occasionally playfully teasing each other, their laughter filling the old house.

The food was laid out on the table, with two seats reserved as before, two sets of bowls and chopsticks placed there, filled with food and warm water, as if the parents were still sitting there, waiting for their six daughters to sit around and eat. At the table, the usual restraint had vanished. The sisters chatted about childhood anecdotes, the hardships their mother endured leading them to Yunnan to find their father, the years their father served in the border region, their mother's gentle persistence, their father's unwavering commitment, and how the sisters supported each other along the way. As they talked, some laughed, some teared up, but their hearts were filled with warmth.

As the sun set, its afterglow bathed the courtyard of the old house and the six sisters. Xia He picked up the palm-leaf fan she had just brought back from the cemetery and gently fanned herself. The breeze carried the aroma of food and flowers, as well as the love and concern of their parents, and the warmth of their long journey to Yunnan to find their loved ones. The eldest sister looked at her five younger sisters beside her, her eyes filled with relief. From their father's passing to their parents' joint burial, these four years had seen them go from initial grief and helplessness to mutual support. There had been no more arguments, no more estrangement; they had always held each other tightly, guarding their home, the memories their parents left behind, and the reunion etched in the years.

"From now on, let's still go back to the old house often and visit Mom and Dad. No matter how life is, we six sisters will always be the closest of family," the eldest sister said to her younger sisters as she picked up the warm water from the table.

"Yes, we'll always be family," the five younger sisters replied in unison, their eyes filled with determination.

Parents may have passed away, but their love lives on. The mother's arduous journey with her daughters to find her father, the father's dedication to defending the country, the deep affection between husband and wife, and the warmth of sibling bonds—all these are hidden in the everyday life, etched in time, and have long since become an unbreakable bond between the six sisters, the foundation of their lives. The smoke from the old house will never go out, their affection will never fade, and their parents' love will forever reside in their hearts, accompanying them through storms and welcoming the dawn of each new year, ensuring a lifetime of peace and companionship.